


Fennec

by Locke (ForgottenLocke)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Definitely AU, F/F, Gen, Hermione Coulter Black, Slow burn... seriously, Uncle Sirius, Voldemort what Voldemort, Weasley Twins being Weasley Twins, what even are tags?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:41:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 50,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23743987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForgottenLocke/pseuds/Locke
Summary: What would happen if Voldemort never existed? What about if several other things were changed as well?Drastically AU of Hermione born from the Black family line, in a world where Voldemort never came to power.  Raised by Muggles, but watched over by her uncle, life definitely took some interesting turns.When, in fifth year, Hogwarts participates in an unprecedented student exchange, she enters the orbit of an unexpected, and somewhat vexing, visiting student.  Added to her problems is that she must now hide another secret that her Uncle has finally chosen to teach her.WIP Re-Write transferred from old acct at FFnet.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger
Comments: 104
Kudos: 545





	1. Of New Families

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a bit of a goofy writing exercise back on FFnet. The AU encompasses not only that Tom Marvolo Riddle never was, but also a variety of changes to several of the pureblood family trees. I had intended to do a re-write of this fic for a long while, and when I finally got around to it, I decided to bring it here to AO3. I've left it unrated for now, as I still don't know how explicit it will ever get due to the character ages. I suppose we'll all see though.
> 
> This Fic remains un-BETAed

Hermione looked curiously at the boy that had taken a seat in front of her. Her current caretaker was on the phone again, and not paying her any mind. She'd been in and out of fosters for most of her life, and some lasted longer than others, but she had a feeling this one would either be rid of her quickly, or never notice the weird things that scared the others away and she'd finally have a steady home. Unfortunately that seemed to mean that the woman didn’t notice things such as this either. "I said hello."

"I heard you the first time." She mumbled, clutching her book tightly. The boy was looking at her expectantly, standing too-proudly with his wild hair and funny clothes. He looked like he was wearing a costume.

"Well aren't you gonna say hello back?" He asked, waving at her to do so, huge grin splitting his face. "It's the right thing to do."

"Hello." She mumbled, blushing, and ducked her head, hiding behind her bushy hair. He laughed and proceeded to plop down next to her happily. "I… I…"

"I'm Harry Potter." He was grinning happily again, she just knew it. "My godfather brought me to this park, even though it's not nearly as fun as going to play with the other… um… people… around where I live, but he promised I got to meet a special person today, so I came."

"I'm um… Hermione." She mumbled, unable to give a last name, and looked longingly down at the book in her arms. "Who are you meeting?"

"You." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, making her stiffen, and her eyes widened. "Don't worry, you'll understand someday. I've heard about you ever since I could walk, though. Your hair is a lot bigger than I expected. You're eight like me, right? Just a few more years and we'll be in a special school together, and learning the same things. We should be best friends, just so that you'll know someone there. My godfather Sirius is an Auror, but he's gonna start teaching there soon… but from him I know some other Auror's kids, and from my mum and da I know some other kids too. You won't know anyone, so we should be best friends."

"Wh… what?" Her eyes were wide and she stared at his smiling face. "I… What?"

The boy's happy expression slowly morphed into a pout. "You… don't wanna be my friend?" He actually managed to look completely heartbroken, and had he not been babbling the most absurd things, she might have tried to comfort him. "I… I thought we'd be… b- best friends…."

"How have you heard about me all your life?" She asked instead, half-frightened and half-angry. Was he another orphan child too? Had he just recently been adopted, and have heard the tales before that of the problem-girl Hermione? "And why do you think we'll both be going to the same school? How do you know my age?"

"Because Sirius is your uncle… you have to be like me." He answered, wide eyed behind his shiny glasses. "And he's always told me about you. He loves you a lot, and looks out for you, but his job is dangerous, so he hasn't been able to come and get you yet. He will though, he promised me he would. It'll be okay." The boy named Harry lurched forward again, wrapping Hermione in a big hug, his odd behavior confusing her even more. The book fell to the ground with a thud. "He's gonna bring me here once a month if you can come too, or mum will. You'll come, right?"

"I…" she squirmed out of his grasp and looked around in a panic. A crazy boy was hugging her and talking about strange things. Where was her foster mother when she needed her? Hermione's hazel eyes landed on the stupid woman, babbling away on her phone again. She'd just been accosted by another child, who supposedly had an equally crazy man that believed himself to be her uncle somewhere nearby, and the woman hadn't even noticed. Her jaw clenched, and she glared… and the phone in the woman's hand began hissing, popping, and jumped out of the grip that held it, spinning on the ground before shattering in a miniaturized, fire-work-like explosion. "Oh goodness…"

"You did that right?" Harry asked, looking at where she'd been glaring as well. "It happens when we're upset, or scared, or angry… or something like that. I don't know, really. My friend Nevil almost flew once, when he was in danger. It's okay, you just have to keep calm. If you're calm it doesn't happen as much." He babbled, petting her bushy hair. "You don't like her, do you?"

"I… I…" Hermione gasped, staring wide eyed at the destroyed phone, and then back to him. "I…"

"Sirius said this stuff probably scares you still. My da and mum were so happy when a 'happenstance' first came out around me. Meant I wasn't a Squib. You won't be either." He smiled brightly. "Just don't be scared, and be calm, and it's okay. That's what mum says at least. It scared her sister a lot when she was our age… they still don't talk, but Aunt is a Muggle, so she doesn't understand our life the way she should."

"I…" Hermione gasped again, and he wrapped her in another gentle hug. "I'm…"

"It's okay, Hermione. We're best friends now… I promise Sirius and I won't let the happenstances hop you around homes anymore… and in a few years, we'll be in school together." Harry whispered. "Now tell me about what you were reading!"

~ _YEARS LATER ~_

Ms. Coulter was out again, likely at some sort of business meeting, and Hermione debated on whether she needed to leave a note. Uncle Sirius was rather adamant about her doing such things, so he’d likely ask after it, knowing she too-frequently neglected that duty. It wasn’t as if the woman ever commented on the lack of warning whenever she’d conveniently ‘forgotten.’

_**Out to visit uncle. Back late. Jareth has been let out, and will be with me.** _

Simple, concise. That was more than was really needed, as Ms. Coulter probably wouldn’t even go into her room anyway. The barn owl tended to give the woman a bad case of nerves. She almost called for Kreacher to disapparate her to the Manor, but didn’t like to disturb the grumpy little elf if she didn’t really have to - ironic considering that he always seemed eager to help her, and loathe to listen to her uncle.

The bus ride, at least, was primarily uneventful. With the weather so dreary, it was likely that people would have left her alone even without the aid of magic. The charmed bracelet, though, that she’d made while supervised at her uncle’s manor, was more than potent enough to assure that muggles ignored her completely unless she interacted with them. She often wished that it was that potent at school, when she was studying.

“Thank-you.” Her polite words seemed to startle the muggle bus driver as she exited to Islington, hiking her small bag higher to re-settle it on her shoulder. It contained her wand and the all-important potion, as well as a few of her needed books. Hopefully she’d reach Grimmauld Manor before the thunderstorm, predicted for that afternoon, hit. Ducking through and around people was at least a good deal easier with the notice-me-not charm on her bracelet. When she’d finally reached the door, however, the clouds were starting to roll in darker and more ominous, ready to unleash their storm. “Hullo! Kreacher, Uncle Sirius.”

“Kreacher is here, Miss Black.” The croaking, grainy voice to the side, something she had become familiar with over the years of sneaking off to visit her uncle, made Hermione smile despite her mounting nerves. The little elf, his drooping nose and ears almost perking up at seeing her in the foyer, bowed, and she was happy to note that he was finally wearing the nicer toga she’d told him to make himself. He’d been loathe to give up the battered old sack he’d worn before. “Does Kreacher take the Miss’s bag, Miss?”

“No thank-you Kreacher, but I hope we can have afternoon tea together later.” She beamed at him, and the little elf almost flushed. It had taken her 3 years and no few stubborn arguments to get the elf to eat and drink at the same table as her, though he still refused to do so with her uncle there too. He merely bobbed and wandered away, likely to clean something.

“Hermione?” the querying voice of her uncle drifted down the hall, probably from the library. Only a few steps forward and Uncle Sirius popped his head around the doorway, smirking at her. “I almost didn’t think you’d make it on time, no matter what your owl letter said.”

“Lightning storm today. Doubt there’ll be another before term starts.” She quickly slipped into the room with him, noting that he’d cleared area for them to work in. “Rain was threatening as I came in.”

“Aye. James and Harry wanted to come by today, but I begged off. Boy has been a complete bother with you silent for so much of the summer holiday.” Sirius chuckled, still amused by his godson’s attachment to the girl. “Did you leave your mother a note?”

“Foster mother.” She corrected out of habit, though the tone was still slightly bitter. “Yes. She was out again.”

“I’m sure that we’ll receive approval from the Ministry to transfer your custody to me soon.” He soothed, but she shrugged him off, quickly removing her books, wand, and potion from her bag. Sirius moved to say something further, but a stubborn look gave him pause. “Are you ready for this? Absolutely sure?”

“It’s better than saying the incantation for another few months while I get caught up in school again.” She huffed, and Sirius brushed a hand through her bushy curls. At least he had also promised to teach her a hair serum potion her birth mother had supposedly used to keep the damned curls calmer, though that would be closer to her birthday. “I don’t know how you and Mr. Potter managed this on your own, while _in school_. A month without speaking… and then learning to control it?”

“Oh, I am certain that Minerva was well aware, actually, now that I look back on it. She was probably watching us from the shadows like the old worrier that she is.” He chuckled.

Hermione squirmed uncomfortably at the thought of Professor McGonagall knowing she was doing something like this, then even more at the thought of the _Ministry_ finding out. “I’m… going to have to go to the registry if this works today, aren’t I?”

She was frowning slightly in concern and thought, and a gentle thumb brushed over her brows to relax them. Sometimes she wished that she’d chosen to run away to her uncle’s as soon as Harry had introduced them to each other. If she had, then the whole business with Ministry approval of her removal from a Muggle Household to an Auror - or former Auror as this case truly was - would be done with. “I won’t make you until after you’ve graduated.” He comforted, pulling his hand away again. “As a father figure, a professor, and a former Auror, I _should_ … but I’m also a firm believer in innocent mischief while at school, and at least I’m here to help you… which, mind you, no one can ever know.”

“Aye. Just like they can’t know that Mr. Potter is an animagus either.” She nodded in easy understanding, watching the window for signs that the lightning storm had started. “Do you think he’ll teach Harry?” While being able to share the experience with her best friend would be fun, she privately worried over the boy’s ability to do it without inadvertently harming himself. And no doubt he’d want to share it with Ron, who would most definitely do something wrong and end up with a permanent tail or something.

“Not likely. I doubt young Harry even knows about Prongs.” Sirius chuckled, pulling out his wand and gesturing for her to gather her things. Outside the rain had started, and she suspected that lightning would be flashing any moment. “Lily would kill him. You’re ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” She pointed her wand at her heart, holding the potion just below it and watching the window carefully. Just after the first lightning flash, she cleared her throat and intoned, “ _Amato Animo Animato Animagus_.” Then she drank the potion.

~

“My ears still itch from the last time,” she whispered in complaint as he escorted her back to her foster house with a hand guiding her by the shoulder. She felt tired, and stretched, and more than moody from knowing that she’d not see him for an entire week now. “Did any part of you itch when you were practicing?”

“My spine from my tail growing and shrinking,” he admitted with a soft chuckle. “Don’t worry so much, poppet. You’ll get the hang of this eventually. It took James and I months to do it right.” Hermione only grumbled, scratching again at her ears that felt too large and too tight all at once, the skin itching uncomfortably. It had been a long, exhausting practice, and it would be an even longer week before they finally boarded the train to Hogwarts. A week and a half of practice, and she still hadn’t gotten the transformation down right… and now no Uncle Sirius to help her practice.

“Tell Kreacher to visit me when you get back? Harry and Ron won’t be back from their trip to the Quidditch World Cup for another few days.” She forced her hands down and into her pockets, knowing she’d scratch her skin raw otherwise. “I’ve only reading to do with all of you gone, and this stuff has given me an odd amount of extra energy.”

“I will.” His mouth pursed, obviously attempting to hold back laughter, and her cheeks reddened. She already knew what he was going to say, damn him, just as he’d been saying it since that first transformation during the lightning storm. “It’s probably because you look like a fluffy Chihuahua.” There was the laughter, and she glowered at him.

Even as he waved goodbye, watching her stomp through her front door with amusement, she huffed. Unbidden, a soft growl emerged from her throat as she closed the door on the uncle she wouldn’t see for the week until term started, and she blushed further as she continued stomping up the stairs to her room. “Bloody bastard… I’m not a Chihuahua.”


	2. The Struggles of a New Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dangers of a skill that you haven't yet mastered are sometimes that you get picked up by pretty transfer students... whether or not you may want to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow this fic already had hits by the time I finished fiddling with the first chapter/prologue. The tiny, tiny bit that had been intended as ch1 got added to the end of the prologue all as one "chapter". If you've no idea what's going on, maybe try clicking the previous chapter button.
> 
> I'll figure out this whole AO3 thing soon enough.

The auror presence was more obvious than usual, though it may have had more to do with her paranoia than anything else. Hermione eyed one of the taller robed figures standing watch at the Platform, recognizing him as an old colleague and friend of her uncle. Shacklebot maybe? As he noticed her a kind smile curled his lips, and she offered a slight, nervous wave in return. Most of the students never seemed to notice when auror presence increased, or so it often seemed. Even fewer ever really knew why those times were supposedly necessary. Hermione only vaguely remembered Sirius mentioning something about foreign wizards and security wards.

As she settled her owl’s cage with the rest of her things, Hermione changed her nervous glance to her friends. Both of them were making exuberant farewells with their parents, the Weasleys’ red hair creating an obvious clump amid the crowd of Hogwarts students. Ron hadn’t mentioned or seemed to notice anything changed about her, but Harry had asked if something were different. He’d initially asked after makeup, or different hair, and Ginny had laughed about the fact that Hermione had been talking about that hair serum potion from Sirius for the past month. Though she had, luckily, just begun using it two weeks prior, she was more grateful to Ginny for that laughing mention than she’d ever dare show. Hermione attempted to play the comment and observation off as less than worthy of attention.

She was a bit self conscious of the changes that her status as a practicing Animagus had wrought, unexpected even with the reading she had done. Her nose was apparently more pointed, no longer just slightly snubbed up, and unfortunately her ears were just a bit bigger and also just slightly pointed. Luckily neither bit of change was too obvious at an easy glance. The most glaring change seemed to be the natural blonde highlights that had started streaking her hair, similar to the color of the fur that she’d seen on her paws during her few changes. Hopefully they’d consider it a side effect of the serum.

The considering looks from both of Harry’s parents were telling in that they’d noticed slight changes too, and she didn’t doubt them beginning to suspect that her uncle had started to teach her. Neither said anything, though, beyond their farewells, and she felt the knotting in her shoulders ease as they piled into a train cabin. Ginny and the twins were off to catch up with friends in their own years, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she watched the scenery through the window begin to move. There had been no cries of discovery, nor suspicious investigation by Aurors with the abilities of a Legilimens. Now, off to school for the term, she only had to be particularly wary of McGonagall- no small task, but still a less frightening concept than an army of Aurors closing in on her.

As always, the ride to school was mostly pleasant - half filled with her friends’ babble about Quidditch, half with studying ahead in her latest school books. She’d, of course, read ahead in all of them, especially transfiguration. Her month of mostly silence, holding the mandrake leaf in her mouth, had been a dull affair with little to do  _ but _ read. Nevertheless it had become a bit of a habit to acquire the next year’s book set, as much as she could predict, as soon as she’d come home from school. Neither boy across from her would be at all surprised by her study.

“... and they’re supposed to be from the other two major schools in Europe.” Ron was rambling, eyes wide and excited, and that at least caught her attention again. Hazel eyes moved up to look at him curiously, and he huffed in annoyance. “You never listen when I talk, ‘Mione! I was saying about the transfer students that we’re supposed to get! Transfers, Hermione!”

“What?” She blinked rapidly, tilting her head just slightly, nose twitching. That was… odd. According to  Hogwarts, A History the school had only ever accepted transfers under special circumstances having something to do with foreign family relocation.

“Well, Dark Wizard skirmishes are more common now… all those dark magic terrorist groups like the Pureblood Supremacists and the Creature-blood haters…” Ron babbled a bit, almost wiggling in place with her attention finally back on him. He had a captive audience in both of his friends now, and wasn’t letting it slip away. “anyway… Dumbledore wanted to create more alliance and unity within the wizarding world. He spoke with the heads of the other big European Wizarding schools. They’ve started an exchanging program for Sixth and Seventh years. We’ll be getting five or six students from each of the schools, I think.”

Hermione blinked, wondering how exactly the boy always seemed to get his information. All of the Weasleys really… Perhaps Arthur was less secretive about Ministry business than he should be. All of the Weasley kids seemed to live immersed in the gossip exchange. This at least explained the Auror presence at the Platform, and those comments about foreign visitors from Uncle Sirius.

“When will they be arriving? Today with the rest of us?” She squinted a little, still in a small state of shock, and noticed Harry looking at her strangely. Ducking her head, she angled her face more toward her book, and gazed at Ronald over it. The tall boy blushed oddly.

“Erm… next week or so? I think they wanted to place the first years and get them settled first.” Ron stammered, eyes locked with hers and looking increasingly nervous for some strange reason.

“Well, it will certainly be a distraction. We’ve to begin studying for our OWLS and  _ exciting _ foreign students will only cause a ruckus,” she huffed, letting the subject shift a bit to the back of her mind. If it was something that Dumbledore was starting to meddle in, things must be getting worse outside of the schools than Sirius wanted her to know. The addition of newcomers, and whatever commotion among the existing students they’d create, would be more hassle while she was mastering her shifting too.

“Aww Mione… OWLS aren’t until the  _ end _ of fifth year!” Ron complained with a wailing pout, all traces of his strange blush and nervousness gone.

“We  _ are _ fifth years, Ronald,” she growled, glaring at the small lettering of the book. He was going to keep whining of course. Ron often seemed the laziest of the Weasley clan, and she could never understand why.

“I know, but it’s not until the  _ end _ of the year. We can have a little fun before then… especially with  _ transfer students _ coming in!” He was pouting still, she knew it, but she promptly began to ignore him again.

Why had her Uncle given her the animagus notes, and ‘helped’ her work toward it just before her OWLS year anyway? The year before, when they were studying the vagaries of it in Transfiguration, or even next year _after_ the OWLS, would have been much more convenient. Now she’d be concentrating half on  _ this _ , if she couldn’t finish before the real studying had to start. It was bad enough that she’d have to help her friends get up to par, as she knew they’d end up delaying until the very last moment. Didn’t they understand that these tests placed them in their classes and aptitude for the next two years of school? Those years determined their potential placement in any jobs or masteries they might want after they’d left Hogwarts! Even  _ Harry _ wasn’t planning to go into professional Quidditch.

Ron continued whining and babbling as she tried to read, and she occasionally offered a huff or soft growl as she burrowed further into her book. It was behavior like this from him that made her just wish that she could curl up in a hole somewhere private and get away from everyone. Foolish boy.

The announcement at the Sorting Feast about foreign students coming to the school was met with surprise and applause. Everyone seemed more excited than really necessary, which seemed to please Dumbledore at the least, and she idly wondered just how much unity this could really generate, after all. People were still gossiping about it when they retired to bed for the evening, and in class the next day, and the next, and for the remainder of the week. Most of the students were eagerly awaiting the arrival of the transfers, though the Professors looked to be taking things with thinned patience as they battled for their students’ attention each day. During all of the fuss she only had one opportunity to sneak away and practice with her uncle on her transformations.

“Hermione… what do you think they’ll be like?” Ginny asked excitedly. Hermione was once again buried nose-deep in a book, this time one she’d  _ borrowed _ from Sirius. It wasn’t anything she needed to know for classes or the OWLS, rather detailing the history of dark magic defenses throughout the ages, but the chapters on warded and booby-trapped strongholds was completely fascinating. She hoped that the material could distract and ward her against the excitable gossip that had overtaken her peers. “Mione!”

“Sorry, what?” she glanced up distractedly, nose twitching. The redheaded girl looked at her in bewildered annoyance. “You were saying something, weren’t you Ginny?”

“Yeah, I was wondering what you thought the new students were going to be like, but I suspect that you haven’t much thought on it at  _ all _ , sod it.” Ginny huffed melodramatically, forcing the book closed. “The other schools weren’t willing to let outsiders in yet, and none of the smaller British Isles schools are participating, so it’s just a trial run here… so these are as good as  _ spies _ until it becomes a full program. Spies from other schools, Mione!”

“Gin, they’re probably just like us, with a few, very minor, cultural differences.” She glared at the girl and shifted the book further out of reach. Turning to eat her breakfast, since she’d been interrupted from her reading, she rolled her eyes. “In their place, all of this gossip and attention would only make me uncomfortable, instead of feeling welcome. I don’t see the point of becoming so overwhelmed by it. It’s just to promote diversity, Ginny.”

“You’re no fun, Hermione,” Ginny complained with a playful pout. Hermione refrained from comment, glad at least that the only Weasley daughter didn’t have as irritating of a pout as her brother did. “Don’t you at least wonder if some of them will be cute? Fresh meat!”

“Not particularly.” She pulled more hard-boiled eggs onto her plate- she’d not quite been able to get enough of eggs and meat since she’d started her efforts as an Animagus, and suspected the changes it had made to her body included her appetite. Nibbling at a bit of bacon, she noticed that Ginny had turned to gossip with the other girls who, likely, were more enthusiastic about the subject. Maybe she’d be able to get a few more pages in before the start of class.

The doors swung open dramatically, gathering the attention of the majority of the dining hall, and she sighed at yet more of an interruption to her reading. Hagrid entered proudly, chest puffed forward, a large gaggle of foreign students behind him. He was wearing his best robes and had obviously taken however many hours to comb out his beard and hair. Maybe she’d offer him some of that serum Sirius had taught her.

“Ah, students, it would appear our guests have finally arrived!” Dumbledore’s happy announcement garnered just as much attention as the entrance had, distracting them from McGonagall trailing in with the Sorting Hat. “Welcome, one and all, to Hogwarts. I am Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster. We are pleased to welcome the students of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons into our halls. Here at Hogwarts we have a tradition of sorting students by Houses, to promote familial bonds.” He smiled widely, eyes twinkling, and Hermione huffed in annoyance. She’d heard in confidence from her uncle, more than once, that he believed the Houses often drove people apart more than it brought them together. “We shall allow for you to partake of this tradition today, and welcome you to our House tables.”

The students all looked around curiously, their odd uniforms marking them as even further out of place among the English students. Idly, Hermione wondered how many other students had not been included, or simply declined. Only six from one school, seven from the other… they were a clump of nervous tension with the eyes of the Hogwarts student body on them. Slowly, stunned at the entire procedure, each of the transfer students was called to the traditional stool and fitted with the Sorting Hat. Each house erupted, of course, when a transfer student was placed with them.

“One of those Beauxbatons girls got sorted into our house!” Ron whispered in wide-eyed excitement, practically drooling as he looked over at the blonde girl that sat primly with the prefects. Hermione hadn’t failed to notice, considering that all of the other transfer students seemed to have been split between the other Houses, the girl the only one to land in Gryffindor. How awkward was it going to be, for those poor students, separated from those who were their only chance at familiarity by the whims of a Hat. They were probably cursing Dumbledore and the school’s traditions right about then.

“You’ve got a bit of drool, Ron, just there.” Ginny teased her brother, giggling and pointing at his chin, and he flailed around wildly in panic.

“Oh you haven’t; stop swinging your clumsy limbs about.” Hermione rolled her eyes, smirking at the other girl when Ron stopped and began to grumble moodily. “It’s not as if she’ll even notice you down here, Ronald. She’s focused on her food and whatever the Prefects are telling her. There are loads of students between us. Besides, it’s bloody creepy to be stared at, and all of the foreign students will be getting plenty enough of that. You’d impress her more by  _ not _ staring like a berk.”

“Mione…” he whimpered, still pouting at her. She groaned as his eyes got oddly large and earnest. “I… it’s not like I want to  _ date _ her… you know I…”

“Wouldn’t finish that sentence, bloke,” Harry whispered warningly, noticing the glare flashing in Hermione’s eyes. His own jaw set and he offered a glare to compliment the warning. “Hermione, what were you reading before they came in? We’ve Charms first, don’t we?”

“Yes, and then double Defense with Uncle.” She nodded, then glanced sadly down at the book in her lap. People were starting to finally disperse from the meal hall to head off to classes. Even the blonde transfer student was being led away by one of the Gryffindor prefects, possibly to get a set of Hogwarts uniform robes. “Just… just a bit of light reading…”

“Oh  _ Merlin _ , every time she  _ sighs _ like that and says it’s light reading…” Ron cringed and stuffed the remainder of food into his mouth, not bothering to swallow before he continued. “Whatever you’ve got,” he garbled around his mouthful of food, “keep it away from me. Bloody book nutter you are.”

Hermione glared at him, holding a growl from escaping her throat, and stormed away from the table. Most of her food had gone uneaten with the commotion of transfer students being paraded in, and her concentration before that on the book, but she could sweet-talk some food from the House Elves in the kitchens later.

~

Perfect… Just. Bloody.  _ Perfect _ .

She’d thought she’d gotten used to most of the antics of the ghosts and creatures of the castle, having been there four years already. She was wrong, of course. Why wouldn’t she be?  **_Just bloody perfect!_ ** She let out a tiny, chittering growl in displeasure. She may have known something of the sort would happen, probably all too regularly for the first month or so, but it had only been in an absent acknowledgement of the possibility. Thus, when Peeves had gone rocketing down the hallway, clanging against anything loud and metal, rattling pictures, knocking over at least one of the suits of armor, in his idea of  _ welcome _ of the new students, it had startled her beyond her wits. She’d nearly shrieked, somehow only gasping instead, and after an odd hiccough, her entire form had seemed to POP… and she’d shifted down into a pale fox faster than any of her purposeful attempts thus far. Luckily the ghastly annoyance hadn’t even noticed her existence in passing.

Of a sudden, Peeves came rushing back from the way he’d gone, dodging the occasional blast of spell light. His laughter seemed a bit strained, but it was loud and grating nevertheless. She curled tightly back in an alcove, sensitive ears laid flat against her head and neck as the loud noises pounded at her senses. The poltergeist’s volume even managed to drown out the stomping approach of whomever he’d upset  _ this _ time, and she curled tighter into the shadows to avoid whatever debris ended up flying from the confrontation. As Peeves dove through one of the walls, still cackling raucously, the blonde girl slid to an angry halt, cursing at the spot he’d disappeared through in shrill French.

Hermione cringed again, analysing frantically where the nearest secret passage should be that she could actually access in this form. The twins had shown her and the boys several in the area, she might be able to get to one. She willed with all of her might that the girl wouldn’t notice her. “Eugh! I will  _ Petrify _ you ze next time I see you, you eevil leetle excuse for a ghoul!” She snarled in English this time, kicking at the wall with her wand clutched tightly in one hand. Hermione couldn’t help the slight flinch she gave at the thought, already anticipating the trouble waging a vendetta against the troublesome poltergeist would create. Unfortunately, the movement drew the angry girl’s attention to her dark recess, and the infuriated expression twisted into one of annoyance and disgust. “Eugh. Zat is lovely. You would zink zat wiz so many felines ‘ere, zere would be no vermine in ze castle.”

Her ears popped up in shock and Hermione uncurled, hissing an angry almost-growl at the girl. The blonde’s eyes widened as more light caught Hermione’s form, revealing a muted tan fur coat, fox tail, and large ears above a small and pointed face. Obviously no wild rat or mouse, though not quite the red foxes native to the nearby environment. Hermione yipped at her indignantly before leaping away to run off. Vermin. Really.

She didn’t hear any words, not even murmured, but the soft swish-and-gust sound offered the briefest warning the the French girl had moved. Even as she leapt to the side to avoid any attempt at catching her, Hermione found herself airborne, floating backward toward the blonde.

“Ah, what ‘ave we ‘ere?” The lilting accent was just as surprised as Hermione felt, and she growled quietly as she was turned around by whatever spell had sent her aloft. Belatedly she realized that it was the Beauxbatons transfer that had been sorted into Gryffindor, and she writhed a little in an attempt to throw off the spell. “You are certainly no vermine, oui? Someone’s pet or familiar, per’aps.” The girl tilted her head, smirking. “Lost maybe? ‘ave you lost your way, leetle one? Zat eevil ghoul no doubt nearly crushed you wiz ze mess ‘e was making.”

Hermione huffed, resigning herself to waiting to be released, and tried to consider what spell was currently holding her conveniently aloft. Perhaps she had a minor chance at a counter spell if she could think of it, even if she couldn’t quite control her magic in this form properly.

“We are in ze ‘all leading to ze Gryffindor rooms, so you are eizer belonging to someone zere, or spying poorly on someone zere.” The spell was dropped suddenly, and Hermione with it, but soft, pale hands caught her gently. “Now I shall see to my business, no? And per’aps if you do not bite me, I shall fetch some food from ze kitchens for you.”

Hermione was frozen in place, shocked at being held and carried, the delicate fingers carefully stroking along her back. No one had picked her up yet, not in this form. Only Sirius had seen it at all, and he’d always been very respectful about not touching her while she was a fox. She hadn’t thought that the sensation of being  _ petted _ , like a common animal, would feel so lovely. Belatedly, she realized that the girl was carrying her down the hallway, in the essential direction she intended to go, and murmuring little nothings in French to her.  **_Lovely. She’s an animal person- a cute, little, fluffy animal person. Perhaps if I jump away when she’s not paying attention, I’ll be able to run and hide before she can levitate me back again. Bloody non-verbal magic._ **

“Fleur!” The excited tones of several others greeting the girl made Hermione wince, trying to dampen her sensitive hearing. That was something she’d have to work on, once she was able to change back and forth without the help of her Uncle. She knew whatever type of fox she was, in the wild, couldn’t possibly always be so sensitive of hearing. A babble of French gushed over her, and she noticed the others from the blonde’s home school all gathered in an empty classroom. They seemed to be teasing her captor joyfully, even the two boys that had been quietly lurking behind the girls during their entrance and sorting. Fleur… the girl was apparently named Fleur.

“Oh, silence, ze lot of you.” Fleur rolled her eyes and gently stroked Hermione’s back again, carefully scratching with the tips of her fingers. Oh, that felt absolutely divine… she was never going to live this down in Sirius ever found out. “Eet is cute.”

“Fleur, you do not like animals,” one of the girls finally spoke in English, rolling her eyes. “Where have you gotten this thing?”

“Zat…  _ Peeves _ , as the Prefects called ‘him… was annoying me.” Fleur sniffed delicately, proudly, and the other transfers all laughed at that, making Hermione’s ears twitch. Obviously, they all thought that Fleur had understated her reaction, to which Hermione agreed. “I found zis leetle one in ze hall where I lost zat ghastly creature zrough a wall. Eet is adorable, and I shall see it to its ‘uman.”

“It is… cute…” the one that had been speaking English with her reached forward, and Hermione laid her ears back again, offering a growl at the implication. She was putting up with this blonde girl’s petting because she was still held captive until she could escape; she was  _ not _ going to suffer the indignity of being passed around like a new puppy for cooing and giggling. The other girl snatched her hand back, eyes wide. “It is  _ feral _ Fleur! Let it go!”

“I do not zink zat eet likes you, is all, Madeline.” Fleur’s smirk grew, and Hermione huffed out a sigh. The door was closed behind them; she had to wait until someone was coming or going, or the blonde was in the hall and distracted, before she could try to jump away. Maybe she should bite this girl, or one of the others… but then, having seen how Fleur reacted to Peeves, she might just get hexed in revenge. Hermione resigned herself to putting up with that too-lovely petting sensation as Fleur dissolved into French with the others. At least it wasn’t any of the nasty Slytherins - she’d heard that they attempted to hex Mrs. Norris more than once.

Absently, Hermione wondered if they were comparing notes on the school, intending to send back to their own as Ginny suspected, or complaining about having to be there at all. Were the transfers voluntary? Likely it was much simpler than that, and they were just talking about their days. It was probably very different than Beauxbatons had been. She didn’t begrudge them their opportunity to talk, taking the familiarity of each other in such a foreign environment. Still, though, she needed to get to Sirius, and this was taking too long. With a soft huff and grumble, she settled further into the blonde’s hold, staring at the door drowsily.

“Sush. Eet is asleep.” The words barely woke her, said in a harsh whisper, but she didn’t open her eyes, ears twitching gently. She’d fallen asleep as the French girl, Fleur, pet her and murmured. There was no more gossip hovering over her, though, and the gentle fingers had stopped stroking her back and neck. She was cradled carefully to the girl’s body, warm and curled comfortably. “Eet was in ze ‘all near ze stairs zat move to ze tower I’m to sleep in. Do you zink zat eet belongs to someone zere, and ze stair ‘ad simply moved? Zere is un trick step… eet could fall.”

“Perhaps.” There was a brief pause. “If not, they will likely know to whom it belongs. Fleur, if it is a familiar, like you think, it can find its way back to its master alone.”

“Zis I know, Madeline, but zat poltergeist was knocking many zings over in ‘is racket. Eet could ‘ave been ‘urt while ‘e was around.” There was a sad, soft sigh in her captor’s voice, and Hermione tried not to open her eyes and look up at the blonde. Admittedly, though this Fleur was infuriating in not letting her go when she pleased, it was kind to not want Peeves to accidentally crush her with his mess. “If eet is not belonging to someone in ze Gryffon tower, I shall let eet go. Do not fret.”

The door was opening, she could hear it, and she waited until she was assured that it could not be closed on her tail before opening her eyes and springing out of the girl’s arms. Hermione darted as quickly as she could down the hall, zig-zagging her way to avoid any potential spells, leaving the startled cry of both French girls echoing behind her. Maybe she’d repay that intended kindness back another time… once Sirius had helped her shift back.


	3. Watching, Waiting

Hermione quickly jumped onto the platform of the statue that dominated the turn in the hall, squeezing herself into a crevice and curling as tightly as she could, hoping beyond hope that she wasn't seen. The grind of a door on old hinges had woken her with a softly growling stomach, barely before she noticed the entrance to what was assuredly not Sirius Black's quarters starting to open. The soft clicking of heels and swish of robes made her freeze, holding her breath, as she recognized the distinctive stride of McGonagall. Her heart hammered in her tiny chest, and she waited until all traces of the woman's passage were gone before carefully, cautiously, peeking her head out to look around. It seemed that the coast was clear, and Hermione squirmed free, leaping eagerly toward her uncle's entrance. The tapestry was still, as were the stones behind it that would fold in on themselves to create his doorway, and she was stuck waiting there again for when he deemed it time to fetch breakfast. He couldn’t have a convenient,  _ real _ door like the transfiguration professor?

She'd begun to doze again when her ears twitched, catching the familiar sound of shifting stone, but she was only barely uncurling to face him when Sirius noticed her. "What the bloody hell?" His exclamation made her wince, and she darted into the room before someone could come to investigate. Sirius glanced warily around before retreating back into the room with her, the stones expanding and rotating until they'd formed a solid wall again. "Hermione? What are you doing! I've told you to never change unless I could get to you to transfigure you back!" Hermione huffed and glared as she hopped into the cushioned chair at his desk, chittering angrily. She wasn't that stupid, really. "Right, right." Sirius flicked his wand at her, spelling her back to her human form, and she collapsed back into the comfortable chair in relief. "What happened?"

"Peeves, damn that arse." Hermione growled, sneering, and then sighed again as she shook her head. "He was having a go at irritating the foreigners, apparently… loud one. It startled me so badly when he came bashing through the hall that I changed without meaning to." Her expression shifted to a scowl and she eyed his somewhat amused expression. "Is that supposed to happen?"

"Not quite…" His hesitance made her roll her eyes and she waited. "Only once to me, not that I ever told James… and not that you ever will either." He was chuckling lightly, and she breathed a sigh of relief. "It was anger for me, not fright. Prongs, Moony, and I had all just gotten into a tiff over a prank I'd played on Snivelus. They stormed out, and I was so bloody angry at everything that the next thing I know, I'm a dog." She huffed and growled again, her smile at his admittance fading. If being startled was enough to make her change without warning, she hadn't any hope of keeping this a secret. "I believe it has something to do with how magic works in our bodies. When we were younger, our innate magic activated, lashed out I suppose, during times of strong emotion or sudden change. Now we have that mostly controlled, focused through our wands and spells, but we teach our bodies and magic that Animagus transfiguration needs neither. I suppose that it's a good thing, in a way, that your body is so closely in-tune with the fox that it shifted like that." Hermione leveled a skeptical glare at her uncle at his ending comment.

"Is it a good thing that I got swept up by one of the visiting students and carried off to her gossip session with her friends?" Her growl made him chuckle lightly. "It's not as if I am capable of performing magic while transformed, if that's even possible. Once I've mastered shifting back and forth, I'll have to practice dodging spells while a fox."

"Something rather necessary." Sirius chuckled again, twirling his wand between his fingers idly. "So what exactly do foreign girls gossip about while holding fluffy animagi hostage?"

"I would assume the same things that British girls do, except that their words are spoken in French." Hermione sighed, running a hand through her frizzy hair. She was still in the same clothing that she had worn the day before, when she had been forced into her change, and the serum she usually applied to her hair had since worn off. It wasn't quite as frazzled as she had dealt with in her previous years, but she could still feel the difference. Especially with taking the time to chat with her uncle about this, she knew she was not going to have time to eat or bathe before her first class. She would barely have time to change. "Only one of them speaks with a French accent… I’d not actually noticed until thinking back on it now."

"Hmmn." Sirius frowned slightly, rubbing the light dusting of scruff that shadowed his cheeks, and she felt one of her ears twitch at that. "It's likely that their School Head spelled English into their minds for them, once they were chosen to participate in the exchange. I wouldn't be surprised if the same had been done for most of the students. If you listen to them carefully, they likely all have the same inflection and dialect. The ones with accents learned our language without magic."

Hermione's eyes widened, and she shifted almost excitedly in the chair. "The same inflection and dialect?" She smiled at the soft smirk on her uncle's face; he always seemed so pleased with her interest in whatever he had to teach her.

"The only spell that I am aware of that allows for magically learning a language, without the constant use of a charmed or otherwise enchanted object, has a few… down sides, I suppose you could call them. Another witch or wizard has to perform the spell for you, and you must 'acquire' the language from someone fluent in it. However, as you're essentially copying the language from them, you'd end up speaking it as they would… the same inflection, the same dialect, the same accent. If they acquired the language from someone in Wales, for example, they'd all have a Welsh accent. Those speech patterns can go away over time, to an extent, just as someone with a regional dialect can learn to speak differently, but the base of the language will always be the same." He gestured idly as he spoke, looking disinterested and lazy, as she already knew he tended to do when teaching, but she could see the smug pride in his eyes.

"That's how Dumbledore learned the language of the merfolk, isn't it?" Hermione's grin was displayed full force, and Sirius laughed at her sudden assumption. "I'd really rather learn a language myself, instead of using magic… it seems so much more interesting that way… but I suppose I can see the appeal in a certain light. You can learn the language quickly, if you have someone fluent on hand, and you wouldn't have a British accent when speaking it…"

"Learning languages after the developmental years can be rather lengthy and tedious." Sirius noted, and then stretched and smirked more. "I'll tell you more about that later. You've Charms with Flitwick first, haven't you? I believe you're already well enough ahead in that to miss a day. I'll give him a note excusing you, and send an elf with some food to your room. Go freshen up… that was the longest you've ever had to remain in your animal form."

* * *

It was a rare occasion indeed that Hermione missed any of her classes, and rarer still that she skipped for an entire day. Nevertheless, she'd thanked the house-elf that had appeared with her late breakfast, packed several books into her satchel, and snuck a note into her uncle's office that he might need to find her in the room of requirement later. She didn't plan to spend her entire day practicing, really, but having been forced into a change didn't sit well with her. She'd really rather have the day to assure it wouldn't happen again, and had no desire to run into that French girl again… not yet.

Getting to the appropriate hallway, without any instructors, Filch, or prefects catching her made use of a few secret passages necessary. She was almost tempted to take the passage out to the shrieking shack, or somewhere less likely to be obvious as she entered and exited, but should she get stuck in her fox form, she'd need to be able to find her uncle again. Most of her morning was spent studying ahead in her texts, and practicing a few things here and there to assure she had them down. She waited until she'd eaten lunch before settling into her animagus transformation practices. At least shifting into the form of her fox wasn’t too much of an effort…

An hour of frustration, exhaustion, and what she suspected was a strained muscle later, Hermione found herself still sporting fur and a tail. The growling yips and hisses echoed around the Room of Requirement, currently set to a spell practice room, complete with a dueling strip. With only a little bit of struggle she managed to root one of her books out of her bag, and after some effort managed to nudge the cover open with her nose. Turning the pages was tedious, and resulted in more than a few winces. She was sure that she'd wrinkled most of the ones she'd moved, and there might have been a scratch from her claws. Nevertheless, she settled into reading again, this time on complex theory behind transfiguration practices. Perhaps if she could remind this form what it felt like to shift and mold magic within itself, she would manage to change back without her uncle's help.

"Hermione?" The words were cautious, and she lifted her head groggily. She might have, perhaps, fallen asleep again. "Ah, there you are. Decided against practicing did you?"

Hermione paused mid-stretch, fists clenched still, and looked at Sirius in surprise. Slowly, her eyes traveled down, toward her body, and she scrambled to her feet quickly. "How… I… When!" He stood there, amused, as she patted herself down desperately, and then dove for the book she'd been curled around. "This doesn't make sense! Not at all! When, how, did I do it?"

"Mione…" His voice held laughter, and she decided to ignore him for a moment, desperately flipping through the pages of the book. "What are you…"

"I did practice, Uncle Sirius. I don't even remember…" She huffed and continued searching through the book for some kind of explanation. "The last thing I remember before I apparently dozed off was that obviously this author was not an animagus and had no real talent for wandless magic… and still being a fox."

"Then why are you still looking through the book for something?" Sirius asked, still more amused than alarmed. She huffed again, but continued flipping pages for posterity's sake. "Come now… we'll go a few rounds before supper." He gestured idly with his wand, and she pouted stubbornly, moving away from the book slowly. She had no idea how she had, apparently, managed to change back. "Shift and I'll change you back, once, and then you'll do it again, only this time you shall try to do it yourself." Hermione huffed, glared around the room for good measure, and forced the innate magic inside of her into the exact pattern and flow she remembered well at this point. As she settled to a sitting position, ears still laid back stubbornly, she wondered if Sirius changing her really was a help after all. Wasn't it his magic that started the change, not her own… she'd only sense half of it if so. "Now concentrate on how this feels. Try to stop the effects."

Her ears twitched at that command. He'd never told her to resist before… she'd never tried. As his wand swished through the air, she bared her teeth in a growl, struggling against the magic that she felt gripping her. That strange itching, stretching feeling from her first several transformations overtook her. After several long moments, she managed to throw off his spell, barely. Sirius was smiling happily when she did so.

"Good! Good, you're gaining better control of your magic in this form." He nodded. "Once more..." He nodded again, lifted his wand, and that was the only warning she received before his spell was cast again. The same sensations of stretching, itching, and tedious struggle came to her, and she found herself wriggling and writhing in place, before finally managing to throw his spell off. "No faster, but you managed. Alright, we'll actually shift you back this time, and concentrate on the difference… what your magic feels like this time, how it is working..."

* * *

Hermione shifted quietly in place. Getting in and out of the Gryffindor common rooms was rather difficult in this form, but she'd at least managed to master the art of hiding in the shadows, and streaking through the opening when someone else had come along. Usually she tried to choose the more distracted students, when they were unlikely to notice her. She still couldn't always shift back into her human form on the first try, but it was possible with prolonged effort and patience now. Sirius continued his private work with her, when neither of them had too much work or homework, and she'd taken to meeting him already in fox-form. At least then all that was needed was for her to attempt to throw off his spells, and then eventually attempt to change back. Resisting had definitely helped with her own control and understanding, feeling from that what the magic was trying to do, and then attempting to replicate it later on.

Currently, however, she was indulging in light spying. Fleur, the French girl, was seated in a corner of the common room, reading. Most likely it was a portion of her homework, as the slightly annoyed look on her face was not telling of enjoyment of her reading. The common room was quieter than usual, which she was grateful for with the sensitivity to sound that her fox form came with, but that was mostly due to the girls occasionally glancing over at Fleur enviously, or the boys failing at their attempts at discrete staring. It seemed that Ronald wasn't the only boy in her House infatuated with the transfer student.

Harry and Ron were both away, luckily, she didn't think she could go without nipping at them if they treated the poor girl the same way. Quidditch practice was probably the reason for the smaller crowd, considering that people still hadn't learned that it was rude to stare. Huffing, and noticing a small bundle of first years heading slowly toward the room entrance, she crept forward. It took surprisingly little effort to catch the blonde's attention, a simple brush of her tail against her leg beneath the robe and Fleur's gaze snapped down to the shadow of her quickly retreating form. Her sensitive ears easily picked up the quick shutting of a book, and the shifting that accompanied standing quickly. She streaked along the edges of the room, keeping to the shadows and out of the others' sight, aiming for the common room door, where the bundle of first years was exiting.

Hermione barely made it out of the portrait hole behind the giggling children, and glanced back in time to note Fleur striding quickly in that direction. Huffing out a breath and berating herself for this, Hermione slipped quickly around the first years, hearing one jump in shock, and the rest of them move quickly out of the way as the portrait began to swing open again. Hermione leapt over the trick step, not really wanting to drop to her death as she'd fit through entirely in this form, and landed easily on the next floor's landing. Glancing back, she noted Fleur following after her still, book tucked under one arm, the tiniest of smiles hinting at her lips. Hermione flicked her tail, quickly moving down one hallway, careful to pace herself so that the blonde would keep up, and cautious of anyone that might accidentally spot her. Most of the students that still lingered, not many with the weather unseasonably nice, were too occupied with conversations on their own level of height, instead of whatever happened to be running about on the ground. It was no wonder Mrs. Norris disliked so many students- most of them had probably almost stepped on her when they weren't watching and hadn't a reason to fear getting caught at something.

By the time she'd led an increasingly frustrated blonde girl down a deserted hallway, and up a few flights of stairs, she could hear the grumbles in French. What few students they had passed were all gone now, and Hermione slipped around another corner, through a small, dark corridor. At the other end, a sharp corner proving to lead into an area filled with light, she quickly darted into cover. Fleur emerged cursing under her breath, the foreign words lilting even in her frustration, and stopped short.

A large portion of the student populous didn't know about this landing. Most of those who did seemed to be the adventurous types, or Hufflepuffs that liked solitude. Likely, Fleur had never even heard of it. The landing was a little worn from weather and ill-repair, but certainly sturdy enough. A large, flowing willow tree emerged from the cracked stone facing on one side, mortar and stones broken outward around it to accommodate its size. With a little research, and friendly gossip with the school's ghosts, Hermione had found out that a few spells gone awry from a Hufflepuff of years past had sent the roots of a Lallac Willow sprout into the stone walls of his room. The seedling's sprouts hadn't survived in the darkness of his room, but the magically strengthened roots he'd blasted into the walls had explored and found an outlet here. This appeared to be the end result... astounding considering that the flowering willow rarely grew in such windy areas as a landing of Hogwarts could often be.

“Ah… zis… zis is…” Fleur’s soft exhalation made Hermione’s ears twitch, and she cautiously peeked up to see the blonde staring in wonder at the tree. There were a few benches still intact from whenever this had been a more elaborately decorated balcony, but when Hermione chose to visit, which was admittedly less often than when she was in her first three years here, she had always liked nestling between the tree’s bulging roots. Fleur seemed to be of a similar mind, walking cautiously toward the tree and settling on the ground between two large, exposed areas of root. The soft, surprised smile was still on her lips as she slid the book into her lap, beginning to read once more. Hermione smirked internally, tail flicking as the only sign of her satisfaction, and carefully sneaked away again. She was sure that Fleur could find her way back to the common room without her… or if not she could always ‘happen’ upon the landing later in her human form, and provide a guide back.

* * *

Harry was watching her with worry, and she shifted nervously. She'd just mastered shifting forms completely the previous day, and Sirius had suggested that she take a break from constant practice. Her free time had been split between studying, and practicing with him, over the course of school so far - more than a month - and she hadn't had much time with her friends because of that. It was almost... freeing... to have the ability simply be available to her now. She didn't have to use it, but she could at any time, and if she didn't need to carry anything, she could escape to study, or relax, or do anything really, whenever she wished. It was already a week to Halloween, and she suspected that the festivities would prove tedious, and that freedom would be welcomed.

"You mean, no one's asked you to the Halloween dance?" And Hermione shifted again, trying not to look at her best friend. He'd already asked three times, apparently shocked. Sure she'd gotten a few offers the previous year, mostly from some bolder Ravenclaw boys that had taken notice of her intelligence, but as she'd instead gone in a group with Harry, Ron, and Ginny, she suspected that it had gotten out that she wasn't interested. Then again, she hadn't really been anywhere that someone might get the chance to ask her this year.

"For the last time, Harry, no." Hermione huffed, and her nose twitched. Idly she scratched at it, ignoring the speculative look that Ronald was giving her. "And I'm glad of it... usually you would be too."

"No! I am! I mean I'm not! I mean... of course you deserve to be asked... I mean..." He turned red, attempting to cover up what he believed to be some sort of blunder. They'd been hanging around Ginny more, they had to have been; Harry used to be content at leaving it at his over-protective comments before. "Ugh... no one?"

"No one, Harry." She huffed yet again and looked up at him sharply, seeing him turn a deeper red. "Aren't we all going in a group again anyway? Or have you finally found a date for yourself?"

"Well... erm... sort of?" He was still blushing, and she laughed lightly. Of course... no wonder he suddenly wanted boys to be interested in her. "Lavender and Parvati asked to go with Ron and me... We... um... I don't want to leave you out though, so I told them they could come with all of us."

"Harry, you're fifteen." Hermione admonished, and he looked confused. "You're old enough to have a date for a dance. I'm sure that your parents would be very proud of you for having one." Hermione smirked at him. "Go with them, and Merlin drag Ron with you if you have to. I'm sure that Ginny can find someone too."

"But..." Harry began.

"I refuse to go in a group with all of you now. You've no other choice." Hermione was still smirking, and Harry looked almost as if he'd been struck. "If I end up going with Nevil, or whoever else is available, I'll save you a dance." Harry continued pouting. "Now tell me how practice has been going. I haven't made it out to any of them... not that I can see much with you darting around after a snitch anyhow..."

He was pouting even from talking about Quidditch, a real feat, but eventually his excitement over the latest maneuvers the team was trying helped to cheer him. Ron was quick to interject his own ideas, and that he felt that he should be more involved as the team's Keeper. Hermione didn't much care for their tactics and plays, as she only understood half of it at most, but the subject was a welcome distraction from them worrying over her not having a date - dash that foolish notion - or having been so difficult to find of late.

By the time talk dissolved into plays and strategies used by professional teams, and some things that Harry had learned from his father, Ginny had joined them, and was looking in annoyance at the boys. She was one of Gryffindor's best Chasers, and Hermione privately suspected the girl actually had professional potential in it, but neither of the boys would really share in the discussion with her, arguing amongst themselves instead. "Hermione..." The hushed word was said as Harry and Ron became more heated in their debate on the worth of a Keeper moving from the goals for a trick play, and she figured that Ginny was attempting to talk while neither boy would notice. "Where have you been? We've barely seen you since start of term, and you're so twitchy." Hermione's nose twitched again, and she quickly shot a hand up to cover it, blushing lightly. Ginny glanced at her purposefully.

"I don't know what you're talking about Gin." Even Ms. Coulter wouldn't believe that, and the woman barely detached from her phone long enough for a conversation usually.

"You've been seeing someone, haven't you? Is it that Durmstrang boy that stares at you? You've really a date to the Halloween dance with him, haven't you?" Ginny looked both excited and put off by the idea of Hermione supposedly having a secret beau. "Are you afraid to introduce him because of Harry?"

"I'm not dating anyone, Gin. And what Durmstrang boy?" Her nose twitched again and wrinkled, this time without her attempting to cover it up, and she scowled. All of the students from Durmstrang were ridiculously tall, there was no way she'd have missed one of them lurking around. Ginny just stared at her. "Ginny, what Durmstrang boy?"

"Krum? The one that already plays in the Slavic league?" Ginny was still staring at her as if she were crazy. "Viktor Krum." Hermione stared back, more than a little confused, and heard Harry and Ron taper off as they caught onto the girls' conversation. "He plays in the Slavic Quidditch league, and was going to be tapped for Bulgaria's national team before he decided to take a year off to finish school when he heard about the transfer program."

"Bloody hell, he's _that_ Viktor Krum?" Ron gasped out.

"Why're you talking about Krum?" Harry scowled. "My Da met him once... said he was awfully quiet."

"He stares at 'Mione across the meal hall, and trails around the library after her whenever she's in there studying." Ginny snorted. "Hermione hasn't even noticed. All of the Slytherin girls hate you now, and a good portion of the other houses of girls that have figured out who he is. When he asked that prat Draco Malfoy if you come to many matches, and Draco mouthed off about you, he refused to even join the Slytherin House team."

"Ginny, now you're just being ridiculous." Hermione rolled her eyes, settling more comfortably back into her chair. Ginny nudged her in return, insisting that it was true.

"What did Malfoy say about Hermione?" Harry snapped, leaning forward. "I don't care if Sirius said to leave him be, if he's bad-mouthing Hermione..."

"He called her a bastard half-blood." Ginny sighed, rolling her eyes, and looked carefully at Hermione. "At least he didn't use that M word, like he tried to in second year when he got here."

"I am a bastard, and a halfblood." Hermione told Harry pointedly. "Technically, you're a halfblood too, so I don't see why you're so upset." Harry gaped, still incensed, and she shrugged. "Don't you lot even know what year this is for him? I thought Weasleys always knew the gossip." She sighed and shook her head, turning back to Ginny. "Whatever this Krum character thinks, I haven't even noticed him. So, no, I'm not dating him."

"What year is it?" Ginny asked, pouting at the lack of scandal. Harry still looked put out.

"His sibs, the twins', first year. Didn't you see them at the Sorting? Karrel and Brinnlie Marius, sorted to Ravenclaw." Hermione sighed again, shifting uncomfortably. Sirius's cousin Vendar had been a Ravenclaw too, and she suspected that his blood-children gaining that house, when his step-child had been sorted to Slytherin of all houses, had likely felt like a lash across Draco's back. She didn't hate the boy, no matter how he seemed to take his frustrations out on she and Harry, and having the twins here probably wasn't making things pleasant for him. Likely everyone in Slytherin blamed him as much for Krum not joining the Quidditch team as Ginny seemed to. Her friends mostly looked uncomfortable at her reminder of the blond boy’s situation.

It wasn’t much longer before she found herself in the library again, studying this time for History of Magic. Mere moments passed before she finally noticed her tall shadow, lurking quietly a few rows away, watching as Ginny had mentioned. It was a mere matter of slipping around a single corner, out of sight, for her to draw him close enough to confront. "You're Krum, right? Viktor Krum, from Durmstrang?"

Hermione looked curiously at the tall boy... if she could even call him a boy. He looked as adult as she'd seen any seventh-years, with a light dusting of scruff across his chin. He probably couldn't grow a full beard quite yet, but he still didn't look like he belonged in schooling. Tall, thin, gangly, he had the almost-finished look of late adolescence - so different from the not-quite-boyish looks her own yearmates still sported. Light brown eyes stared solemnly at her, and he seemed a little flushed from having been caught.

"Yes." His accent was thick, but barely not pronounced enough to garble his words. He spoke slowly, though, as if afraid to choose the wrong one. Immediately her estimation of him rose, after the conversation she'd had with Sirius about language transfer spells. "And you are Her-mi-o-ne." He spoke her name as if sounding it out, and she blushed slightly to realize that he had such difficulty with it.

"Is there a reason you were following me?" Her eyebrows rose, trying to banish her slight blush, and hoping that it really was because he liked her as Ginny had suspected. If he was curious about strange quirks, possibly having seen her shift from fox to human, then she was likely to end up in a lot of trouble. He flushed more, and she shifted nervously, trying not to let animal behaviors betray her. "My friend says that you stare at me during meals."

"Yes..." it was drawn out again, and though he was blushing a bit, which looked very odd on his adultish features and sallow skin, he didn't seem ashamed of it. "You are very pretty, Her-mi-o-ne, and you are very smart. I am sorry if I offend." His voice was a deep, almost soothing rumble, that reminded her of Sirius's growl when he was a dog. She shook her head, blushing deeper and smiling in embarrassment. At least Harry wasn't around to hear this.

"Why haven't you tried to talk to me then?" Hermione shifted again, still blushing, and glanced discreetly around to see if anyone, especially her friends, were nearby. It would be a disaster if it got back to Harry, overprotective git that he could be sometimes.

"Because when I look at you... you look at someone else." He smiled softly, his gaze still solemn, and she blushed brightly. "She is very pretty, too. Sometimes she looks when you are not watching. No one else sees... but no one else watches as I do."

"Th- thank-you Viktor." she swallowed hard, and wondered who exactly he had caught her staring at. Was it her talking to Ginny? Ron had joked they seemed too close, sometimes. Or when she was watching Fleur to assure the girl hadn't caught on to who the fox was? "I... That's very sweet." She paused again and sighed, scratching at her nose as it twitched nervously. "Ginny said you wouldn't join the Slytherin House quidditch team after speaking with Draco Malfoy?" She looked up at him again, uncomfortable bringing it up. A deep scoff sounded from the tall boy, and her eyebrows rose.

"He is very rude boy." Viktor grumbled, his accent becoming thicker. "He calls people rude things."

"Viktor... I  _ am _ a bastard, and a halfblood." She told him with another sigh, setting her hand gently on his arm. He immediately flushed again. "Draco is having a rough year, after several years of whispers behind his back and feeling as if he's a disappointment to the people important to him. He doesn't show it, but really he just wants someone to be proud of him. He might be rude... and he might go about things the wrong way sometimes... but he could probably use a friend as much as someone who happens to be very far from home." Viktor's blush deepened. "He's their team's Seeker, he was probably trying to give up something he cares deeply about, so that their team could have the best players available. It would probably be very nice, for both of you, to give him a chance at friendship." The flush started to fade, and Hermione was a little glad of that. Blushing looked so strange on him. "He's very smart too, first in his year. He'd probably give me a run if he was my age."

"What is this meaning? Why would being of the same age make you run?" Viktor's eyebrows knitted together, and she laughed lightly, shaking her head. "It is English expression, is it not?"

"Viktor, if you would ever like to learn English expressions properly, I'll see if I can get my uncle to complete our Language for you." She winked, and his eyes went wide with shock as she turned and started to move away. Idly she wondered if it was because she had winked at him, or if it was because she knew about that kind of spell.


	4. Connections

Hermione smiled softly to herself from where she was seated, sipping at a cup of mulled apple cider and enjoying a brief respite from the excitement of her peers. Each of her friends had already insisted on dances with her, as was usual to their group attendance to these school dances and parties. Luckily the boys at least were off attending to their dates, giving her a much appreciated break from their antics. Even Neville, Ginny's date, had asked for a dance, to which she had quickly declined. He was a sweet, if sometimes shy, boy, and she attributed much of his lack in confidence to attempting to live up to the imposing and impressive figures of his parents. He'd been shocked when Ginny agreed to go to the dance with him, and was currently in search of drinks and a small snack for her.

"You really should be easier on him, Gin." Hermione smirked at her friend over her cider, having spotted Neville fussing over what foods to bring back from the spread that had been laid at the side of the hall. "Any more nervous and he might faint."

"He's nervous because I told him if he did well tonight, I'd help him get a date with the girl he's got a crush on." Ginny smirked back at her, and Hermione's eyebrows rose at the confession. "It's so that I can see what I'm working with... or that's what I told him. Really it's just so that I can have a laugh before pushing him at her - she's been staring at him all night." Hermione laughed a little, and glanced around in an effort to spot whoever was watching Neville as well.

"Who?"

"Alexa, that sixth year Hufflepuff." Ginny inclined her head in the direction of the appropriate table. Hermione laughed lightly at the sight of the oddly-short sixth-year pouting as she stared at the bumbling Neville. "Her parents work in foreign relations for the Ministry, and they've known each other for years because of his parents. He has no idea how to talk to her, though, and always ends up babbling about Herbology when he even  _ sees _ her."

"That's just a bit sad..." Hermione was still smiling as she looked away from the girl and reached again for her cider. Vaguely, at the edge of her vision, she spotted a tall, dark figure approaching. Ginny's sudden expression of excitement and surprise was a good indication that it wasn't Sirius coming to check on her. Her smile faded to a subdued grin, and Hermione settled the cup a bit more securely in place before turning to regard the nervous form of Viktor Krum. "Hello Viktor."

"Hello Her-mi-o-ne." He still spoke slowly in that low rumble of his, and Hermione wished it was at least a bit easier for him to pronounce her name at least. "You are having good night?"

"Yes I am, Viktor, thank-you. How is your night? Who did you bring?" Her smile spread slightly, in a friendly manner, and she promptly ignored Ginny's attempts at kicking her and getting her attention under the table.

"Draco is saying that we are come 'stag,' though I am thinking that stag is deer." Viktor blushed slightly, the coloring of his cheeks still looking odd on him, and Hermione laughed lightly. "He is rude and arrogant... but yes, I do enjoy our talk of Quidditch." Hermione smiled even more broadly, and his blush deepened. "He is saying, also, that if I must like you, that I should have dance with you." Viktor looked nervously at where Ginny sat so nearby, watching the interaction.

"Actually, I was thinking of slipping out early. Would you mind Ginny here as a stand-in for that dance?" Hermione stood and gestured casually at her friend. The ginger-haired girl gave her an abrupt look of shock, and Hermione offered her most impish smile. "I'd appreciate it."

Viktor looked a little startled at her words, but turned a somewhat sheepish smile on her redheaded friend. Hermione watched as he bowed regally, offering a hand to Ginny and gently leading her away when it was accepted. The younger girl stared over her shoulder at Hermione with a look mingling shock and awkwardness, and Hermione's grin returned. Viktor was a very nice young man, if perhaps as shy and awkward as Neville sometimes, and Ginny having to deal with that at the same time as her obvious admiration of him would be a bit of payback for what she'd done to poor Neville. Silently, while her friends were all taken with their dance partners and dates, she managed to sneak out of the Great Hall, breathing a slight sigh of relief at the immediate lessening of sound and energy around her.

Mrs. Norris lay watchfully at the corner of a hallway nearby, glowing eyes watching for any signs of student mischief, and Hermione likely only noticed her because she'd developed a keen awareness for fuzzy tails that might be stepped on. "Evening, Mrs. Norris." The cat only blinked at her, not bothering to stand and retrieve her master to catch a student away from the dance. "Be sure you aren't stepped on by fools wandering off to snog."

Once again the feline only blinked, and Hermione slid into an alcove, quickly shifting down into her fox form so that she would not be easily found by anyone come to search. She almost went to the astronomy tower, eager for a bit of quiet, relaxing time, but at the last moment darted toward the willow's balcony. A nap nestled within the roots of the tree, its soft scent helping to relax her, would be just lovely. So many students were going to be staying at Hogwarts over the winter break, all of them excitable due to the exchange students, and her break from their bustle and gossip was going to be less relaxing than usual. She had a sinking feeling that even the library would cease to be a haven from their play and banter. Hermione dozed off, listening to the soft creaking of swaying branches, thinking about possible places to hide out and study when that time came.

"... Ah. Eet is you." The words were spoken softly, almost cooed at her, and Hermione blinked blearily as she woke. The lovely feeling of delicate fingers scratching behind her ears made her eyes flutter shut again, and she took a moment to realize that, not only was she currently a fox, but she was allowing someone to pet her like a common animal. Jerking back, startled, she gazed with large eyes up at the blonde, French girl. " C'est juste moi. We are boz come 'ere to escape ze excitement of ze dance, no? 'ere, you will not run away zis time, and I shall bring you to ze tower wiz me." Hermione simply blinked at the blonde girl again. She didn't really know how to react to that suggestion, and felt a strange sympathy for the cat she'd encountered on her way out of the dance. No wonder Mrs. Norris had simply blinked and stared at her; how did one respond to a babbling human?

Despite her suggestion of bringing the fox back to the Gryffindor tower with her, Fleur didn't attempt to pick Hermione up again, nor did she turn to leave. Instead she sat, gently smoothing out her elegant dress-robes, and leaned calmly back against the tree and roots. Her ankles were tucked under her, and a book pulled from a suspiciously small handbag lay across her lap for reading. Hermione remained lying where she'd been found, simply watching the blonde girl with curiosity, as she settled in for a bit of reading. The French girl certainly didn't look as volatile as she had occasionally come across as; Peeves rarely even entered this area of the school with so few students to harass. With cautious steps, Hermione rose and approached, noticing too easily the way that the blonde girl glanced at her, but pretended to continue reading as if she hadn't seen Hermione move. Still cautious, more due to the fact that she was embarrassed about doing it than that she thought she would be hurt, Hermione placed herself directly next to the girl's hip, looked up once more, and then curled into a comfortable position again and closed her eyes. The French girl was warm, and it was oddly comfortable laying against her, especially when one hand dropped lightly to cup against her furry back. Hermione quickly found herself dozing off again. This was entirely embarrassing, but equally too comfortable to balk at.

When she woke again, it was to whispered words and soft giggles, two more of the French exchange students settled within the secluded spot, quietly gossiping with Fleur. They remained oddly quiet, why she didn't know, but almost immediately her large ears lay back. What, exactly, were they doing here at any rate? She'd brought the blonde here to escape the whispers and staring of their foolish housemates, as a kindness. It was not meant to be some exchange student getaway, or overpopulated with giggling students. What if she wanted to come back here to study quietly at some point? Was she just to accept their trespassing and noise? She should have expected the possibility of Fleur sharing it with her friends, considering that few of the exchange students seemed to have mingled much with the native students, and the blonde likely wished to be with those familiar... but somehow the possibility had slipped her mind.

"You have woken eet." Fleur's pouting voice brought her attention directly upward, and blue eyes met her gaze almost apologetically. "Shh... sleep leetle zing. Zey will hush now."

"You are far too attached to the little furball, Fleur." The somewhat nasal voice of one of the girls gritted against Hermione's nerves, a bit louder now that they knew she was awake. Whatever else she said was in French, and beyond Hermione's understanding, but Fleur offered a haughty look in return to the girl.

"Eet iz not wild." Fleur's words made Hermione snort lightly, and she narrowed her eyes at the other girl. "Eet showed me zis place, and is at ze least as intelligent as a familiar." Fleur sounded proud, and somewhat offended, and Hermione offered a soft growl at the girl that had called her wild. The conversation continued on in French, much to her chagrin, but didn't seem to be going anywhere particularly important. Before much longer had passed, Fleur gently scooped her up into warm, gentle arms, and moved toward the passageway, throwing a somewhat snide-sounding blur of French words behind her at the others. They all giggled annoyingly in return, and Fleur's strides grew longer and irritated. Wonderful... now she had a quick-tempered French girl carrying her off. Why did those girls have to irritate the blonde?

She had hoped that, as they travelled closer to the Gryffindor commons that Fleur would relax, perhaps allow her down. Her ears twitched up and forward as they drew close to the stair, then again at the portrait hole. Fleur had not put her down yet, and though she did seem at least calmer, she did not even set her down at the hall of the girls’ dorms. Hermione tried to peek around the blonde’s body as she was carried directly into the foreign girl’s room, apparently a spare prefect room from what she could determine. She was settled onto the bed as Fleur waved the door shut with her wand in another casual display of wordless magic.

What, exactly, was she to do now? The benefit of not squirming or biting Fleur was that the bonde did not lose her temper and attempt to hex her like with Peeves… the disadvantage was apparently that the girl thought her a tame pet. She was so focused on the door, attempting to come up with some sort of escape without revealing her secret, that she didn’t notice Fleur taking down her hair. The spark of wand movement drew her attention finally, and she saw the sudden removal of the girl’s makeup, and then Fleur was beginning to undress. Hermione let out a small yelp in surprise, something akin to a strangled  _ yip _ in her current form, and quickly hid her head under forepaws and tail.

When laughter rang through the dormitory's previous silence, she dared to peek out. Fleur was still standing about in her undergarments, making Hermione's fur ruffle in an animal-equivalent of a blush, and she hid her eyes again. "Quite ze polite leetle creature, no?" Gentle fingers trailed through the fur of her back, tickling at her ears, and Fleur continued laughing softly as she went about dressing for bed. Hermione's ears quirked this way and that, listening carefully for the sounds of clothes being donned, and only when she heard what sounded like Fleur brushing her hair did she attempt to peek again. The blonde witch was sat nearby, a mirror spelled to levitate before her as she slowly ran a brush through her hair, a small, content grin at her lips. Hermione also noticed, atop her travel trunk, that she had arranged a bundle of pillows and blankets- likely a bed for her. Hermione watched the French girl for several moments, as content to watch Fleur brush her hair as the girl was to go through the soothing evening ritual.

Fleur really was very beautiful, moreso than she'd really bothered to notice before. Of course she'd seen how the other students reacted to her, and understood it on an academic level, but looking at the relaxed, pleasant expression, and the girl's hair down and soft about her shoulders, like a silvery cascade… she really did look just lovely. There was an odd cast to her features, though it didn't take away from the beauty, it simply gave a slightly inhuman grace to them. For a brief moment, she wondered if Fleur might be an animagus as well, and simply had not recognized what Hermione's fox form was, but she dismissed that quickly enough. Sirius had said that McGonagall would know the first time she saw the fox, and the few times she'd seen Sirius as a dog in the time she'd been an animagus he had seemed so much himself, and she'd understood him well enough without being versed in Legilimency and Occlumency. Fleur hadn't understood anything she'd thought or done before, not on the level that an Animagus should, and seemed convinced that she was something like a familiar.

As she saw Fleur dismiss the mirror, and begin to set her brush aside, Hermione shook the thoughts from her mind. Whatever Fleur was, if she was anything other than a foreign witch, could be thought on later. Bounding from the bed, she darted quickly over to the door, sitting there and looking expectantly at the girl. Fleur watched her with a slight smirk, and Hermione cocked her head to the side crooning a gentle noise at her. It took her placing a delicate paw on the door for the French girl to understand finally.  **_Let me out. Please. I can't stay here all night._ **

Fleur looked to almost be pouting, and strolled slowly over to pick her up again. "Eef you are a familiar, your master will be waiting, no?" Hermione wrinkled her nose. She didn't really want to be thought of as having a master, and who knew what Fleur would end up doing if she thought that someone was having their familiar trail her around. She shook her little head, tail flicking slightly again. "No? 'owever you do want out." Hermione slowly nodded, unsure of how much intelligence to display, but figuring that she'd already given that away anyhow. "Merde, you are a clever leetle zing." Fleur sighed, stroking down Hermione's head and back once more, almost sadly, and then opened the door for her, letting her down carefully. Hermione looked back at her once, and began to bound away. Fleur's door was still open, the girl watching after her, as Hermione quickly jumped around the corner.

* * *

As days passed and the winter holidays approached, the hum of excitement that had begun before the Halloween dance increased. For the most part, Hermione didn’t understand the unusual levels of enthusiasm and expectation. After all, the ratio of exchange students to native students was minuscule, so the holiday break would likely be unchanged for the most part. She liked to blame the Daily Prophet, which had apparently decided to run an article on the exchange program, and the Quidditch player that had participated.

That Skeeter woman had apparently been incapable of understanding why Viktor would choose school over immediate entrance to the Bulgarian National Team, and the article had gotten more than her usual level of ridiculousness. Mr. Potter had sent a care basket to the boy through Sirius, congratulating him on wise choices, apparently having suffered the woman’s nature before as well. Hermione had never much appreciated articles in the Prophet penned by the venomous woman, but had ignored them in favor of other information available in the paper. The number of times she’d heard her peers gossiping about excerpts from it, though, made her feel somewhat more like a personal enemy. Viktor had equal numbers of suspicious glances cast his way as admiring, and Hermione was almost tempted to approach him as the fox as well. Leading Fleur to areas of hiding had worked for the French girl well enough, it could possibly work for the Bulgarian. His blossoming friendship with Draco, luckily, prevented that need.

Hermione scoffed silently to herself at the gaggle of students gathered outside of the Library doors. Half of them appeared as if they were trying, and failing, to seem innocuous and casual. They lounged near walls instead of the doors themselves, offering each other stilted and halting bits of gossip or conversation. The other half nearly blocked the entrance entirely, glancing this way and that as if to catch sight of something. Taking a subtle sniff, Hermione wished that her sense of smell had increased as much as her hearing, to detect if their target of interest was inside, or not yet arrived. Then again, she likely did  _ not _ want to have to smell most of the student population more than she already could.

“He’s usually here between classes.”

“Pince likes him, even though he and  _ Malfoy _ talk too much inside.”

“I thought he hated Malfoy like anyone with any sense.” That bit had come from a small group of Gryffindors at one edge of the doors, blocking her entrance too much for it to be sensible for third years to be doing. “He’s such a  _ prat _ .”

“He likes Black’s neice too.” The sound of that voice was confused, feminine, and irritated. “Maybe he likes bookworms.”

“Perhaps he likes studying, which is what the Library is meant for.” Hermione’s voice rose just barely above the third-years, catching the small group’s attention. The three of them turned to her, eyes wide. “Be happy I’m not a prefect. You’re blocking the entrance.”

“He’s the  _ real _ Viktor Krum, right?” The bold question made her narrow her eyes at the girl that had referenced her before. “Erm, I mean, from Quidditch? The article was right?”

“That article was filled with trash and faulty speculation.” Hermione snapped, nose twitching, and she pushed past the trio. “Go study for something.”

As one of the other gossiping harpies attempted to follow her in with another question, Madam Pince chased the whole of them entirely away from the entrance, freeing it for any others who wished to utilize the Library for its proper purposes. Hermione was favored with a rare, affectionate smile from the woman.

Unsurprisingly, Hermione glanced the sight of Viktor and Draco tucked away in one corner, carefully whispering over a shared book. They were just out of sight of the entrance, quite likely on purpose, and she was surprised to note that Viktor seemed to be handling the book with as much reverence as Madam Pince expected of people, a rare thing among her peers. They appeared taken with whatever conversation they were whispering, so she didn’t bother attempting to get his attention for a casual greeting. Silently, avoiding even brushing against those students studying frantically at their tables for whatever pre-holiday projects their professors had assigned, Hermione made her way back to the section dedicated to History and wizarding laws. Binns had proved a rather inadequate instructor in terms of any knowledge beyond the Goblin Wars.

Silvery blond hair flicked at the corner of her vision as she searched out another tome on the effects of Muggle wars on Wizarding society. Distracted, she paused with one book half drawn out, glancing to the side where she observed Fleur Delacour purposefully perusing the Defense section. The girl’s features were relaxed in a way that Hermione had really only seen as the fox, when Fleur was away from crowds at the landing, and her fellow transfers not pestering her about whatever they spoke on. One benefit to that ridiculous article, at least, had been that the rest of the transfers were, for the most part, ignored as everyone concentrated on Viktor Krum and his speculative Quidditch Career.

Blue eyes caught hers briefly, and Hermione pinked to the tips of her ears, pushing the book quickly back into place and turning. At this distance, most likely, Fleur hadn’t even noticed her blush, but she probably heard the tiny yip of surprise that Hermione let out when she turned abruptly away from that gaze only to almost crash into Krum. The tall, thin man-boy caught her before she could stumble, checking almost instinctively on the books loaded in one of Hermione’s arms.

“Her-mi-o-ne.” His nervous smile was almost amused as he stepped further away, allowing both of them more space for comfort. Behind him, almost the full isle away, Draco watched in obvious amusement, the usual arrogance all but gone from his expression for a rare moment. Viktor glanced behind her again, his smile turning softer and warm, before he looked down at her again. “We are seeing you enter with anger.”

“I had to get through that crowd of daft beasts at the front.” Hermione huffed, eyes narrowing again as she growled lightly to herself. She completely ignored Viktor’s look of confusion, instead growling one more time, quietly, before letting out a breath and considering her almost friend. Draco looked a bit irritated again, likely as tired of the school’s reaction as she was. Possibly more, as he was more frequently around Viktor. “Are you looking forward to the Holiday, Viktor?”

He hesitated for a moment, glancing once more behind her before trying to smile again. “Yes we are, Her-mi-o-ne.” The use of ‘we’ caused her to raise her eyebrows at him, tucking away a few strands of curling hair. Perhaps she’d take the break to discover a way to adjust that hair serum potion to not wear away so quickly with her shifts. “Draco is coming to home with me, over the time away.”

“The Holiday.” Draco absently supplied for the tall Bulgarian, who nodded emphatically in appreciation.

“Yes. Draco is to be coming home with me over the Holiday.” His proud correction made Hermione smile at him, amused as he suddenly appeared nervous and shy again. “We are being friends now… I… I am very  _ grateful _ to be having Draco as friend now.” Hermione nodded in acknowledgement as Viktor got progressively more nervous. “We are friends also, I hope, Hermione. I… I am not wishing to ask the Favor of you, as friend, without gift in return.”

She blinked a few times, nose twitching, as she tried to decipher what it was, exactly, that he’d meant. Favor? A Gift? After a moment of incomprehension, she glanced back at Draco for an explanation. “He doesn’t like not always understanding us.” Draco turned slightly to not look directly at her, shoulders stiff and uncomfortable. “Said you could do something about that…” The blonde boy did his best to sound bored and unconcerned, but his fidgeting hands and tense posture betrayed the nervousness. “The… erm… book we found wasn’t quite descriptive of the spell.”

Hermione ignored the last bit, instead turning wide eyes at Viktor, who promptly turned and made odd gestures at Draco, catching the boy’s attention and shooing him away. Draco huffed, but walked far enough away to allow for them to not be overheard. “I am not liking to not understand English sayings, but I did not wish to be asking of you with nothing given in return.” Viktor explained softly, repeating somewhat what he’d said before. It made much more sense now, and she surmised that the book Draco had mentioned was what they’d been bent over as she entered the Library. “My family is not speaking very good English. Not even so good as I have. Draco is telling me, last night, that he speaks the French, and wishes instead it to be my language. This would be of much easier Holiday, yes?” Viktor smiled nervously again, blushing, and Hermione laughed lightly to herself. “I am thinking, if you do this favor, and are teaching me the spell… I can give you both. This would be good?”

Hermione laughed again, a little nervously, and looked around the Bulgarian at Draco. How had he learned French? Was that where his mother was from? She’d not spoken much, the one time Hermione had seen her. Swallowing hard and reaching up to card a hand through her hair, Hermione thought rapidly. She didn’t honestly know if her uncle would cooperate, much though she’d already claimed that she could make it happen. She wasn't quite sure why she’d suggested it at all, and shifted nervously again. As useful as understanding both other languages would be, perhaps she could just convince Sirius to teach the spell to her.

“We can’t do it right now… obviously.” She hedged, looking around the library with an arched eyebrow that made Viktor grin foolishly. Absently, she noticed Fleur still nearby, absently toying with one of the books she’d been holding before and watching them not-quite-discreetly. Swallowing and turning back to her almost-friend, she offered a hesitant smile. He really was just a sweet young man. “It’ll take a bit to get set up. Give me a few days, and I’ll let you know.” She eyed Draco again, wondering how willing Sirius really would be. Beyond pity for Draco’s situation, the man didn’t much like or trust Slytherins, and often thought the boy was a prat beyond what his reasons should be.

The blonde approached at Viktor’s wide smile, and she watched the two boys. Draco, barely reached the tall boy’s nose, but the budding friendship there was something that already softened the blonde boy. He seemed both relieved and irritated at the apparent agreement that Viktor was assuming, and a light blush overtook his pale features. Swallowing hard, he looked away from both of them uncomfortably. “Oi… er… Cousin.” That one word seemed to brighten the Bulgarian even further. “I know we aren’t friends… but Viktor says you shoved ‘im at me to talk. I… don’t… just thanks, yeah? And for this.”

Hermione smiled softly, understanding too well. Though Draco had acquaintances within his house, it had always seemed to her that they didn't seem to be much like friends. Not like it was for her and Harry, or even the Weasleys. She wasn't about to verbalize that for him, though. "You're welcome, Draco."

"You're still a halfblood bastard." He mumbled uncomfortably, shoulders tightening even further in embarrassment.

"You're a bit of a bastard yourself." She told him, making his features harden, and she smiled at Viktor so that the young man wouldn't step in. "It's one of your best features." She quickly moved off, intending to escape with her chosen books as quickly as she could, and missed the slight smirk that Draco gave as she walked off. She had to speak with Sirius as soon as she could find the man.


	5. Heritage Discovered

Finding Professor Sirius Black wasn’t nearly as difficult as she expected it to be, but she somehow managed to catch her uncle between his term-end errands. “Is that a Nixie circlet?” she asked in surprise, startled briefly out of her mission, and watched as he carefully levitated a glass case into one of his trunks. The glowing contents were too obvious from where she stood at the door. To a muggle it might seem nothing more than a braided circlet of flowers and twigs… a child’s idle creation. Anyone with magic, however, would see the ethereal glow that game from an enchanted Nixie circlet. She watched the glass nervously as it disappeared.

“Hermione!” His jovial tone made her cringe. He’d had the same smile just before suggesting she request Mrs. Potter make veal for dinner at the end of her first Hogwarts year. She’d not yet learned of Prongs, and the resulting playful scuffle between her uncle and James Potter had been startling. “Yes, it is. I’m introducing advanced wards and barriers to the sixth year class next term. I’ve to set it up in one of the practice rooms before Holiday end.” He winked at her. “A Nixie hex is a wonderful motivation to learn quickly!”

"Nixies are OWL material." She corrected. "You taught how to recognize and defend against them to the fifth years in October."

"They're also extremely skilled at breaking wards and barriers. Gringotts occasionally finds Nixies in its tunnels, though never the vaults." Sirius shrugged, setting an array of locks on the trunk. "They're a good test for the strength of the wards and barriers that a student can put up. The wards and barriers they cannot break through are NEWT material. You'll see next year."

"Harry is going to hate that…" Hermione mumbled, wondering how her oldest friend would take to the lesson. He'd hated the nixies the first time around, and she hadn't been much help, as busy as she was with her private training. "Anyway… I came by to ask a favour." She moved a bit further into his office, toying with the hem of her robe sleeves. "Do you remember talking about that language spell? You mentioned that you can perform it." Sirius leaned casually against his desk, smirking. "How many of the rumors about Viktor Krum have you heard?"

"The ones involving his crush on you, or about how one day he was scorning Draco for insulting you and the next best friends with the boy?" He paused briefly. “Or that he’s going blind and using the transfer to Hogwarts to hide his early decline in Quidditch?” The laughter in her uncle's voice was obvious, and she blushed lightly while glaring at him. "So he's offered to let you have his language then?"

"Sort of… Viktor and I are somewhat… like… well friends. I was the one that suggested he get to know Draco better." Hermione sat down with a sigh. "He's a very sweet young man, even if he is a bit shy… and I think he's been a good influence on Draco. The little prat thanked me earlier." Sirius looked shocked, briefly, before laughing. "Viktor learned our language the non-magical way, and still doesn't seem to understand some of the more intricate nuances. I jokingly told him to tell me if he ever wanted the complete language. He never asked about it before, but Draco agreed to go home with him over the Holiday… and Draco apparently speaks French..."

"They want each other's languages, and Krum offered both to you as trade… to make it fair." He nodded, scratching idly at the scruff growing on his cheek. He was silent for a few moments, making her grow yet more nervous. Idly, her nose twitched just a bit, and she fidgeted again with one of her sleeves. "Seems like a good enough plan. It might be... beneficial... for them to believe they're simply exchanging languages, but that would really be up to you."

"You'll do it then?" Her eyes grew a bit wide, smile spreading on her lips, and he chuckled. "Just lovely."

"Bulgarian requires a different alphabet than English or French. The spell only works for on the spoken end; likely Viktor and his school-mates had to study the English alphabet as well, if they didn't all learn English the hard way." Sirius warned. "And I suppose we should get this out of the way before term ends, if they’re to leave for the Holiday. We can all meet in my classroom after supper tonight."

* * *

"Yes, Professor Black?" Draco's expression was cold and a bit detached, though Viktor looked a bit nervous and curious at having been called in. Hermione simply relaxed on one of the room chairs, trying not to flick her ears at each sound, or move overmuch. It wasn't particularly that she thought either of them would recognize her, but the fewer pieces of the puzzle they had, the better. Sirius made a soft noise that she, at least, knew meant he was amused at Draco's attempt at disinterest.

"It has come to my attention that you're in need of... a spell." The smug tone from her uncle made her nose twitch, and she dared a slow glance up at the boys. Viktor had straightened considerably, and Draco had paled. He waited for a moment, and if she cared just a bit less about their knowing that she was there, she might have growled at the man for his teasing. "Hermione had me call you in. You're lucky that she's as convincing as she is, otherwise I'd leave Krum's language issues up to the Headmaster." He paused and eyed the blonde boy, "Nevermind your desires, boy." He chuckled at their somewhat relieved, and Draco's pointedly annoyed, expressions. "Stop pouting at me boy, you're as frightening as a garden gnome." Sirius laughed and pushed off, standing and stretching lazily. "You'll need to be relaxed, asleep is best but completely relaxed is fine. I've got a potion at my desk for if you think you'll be too tense. You'll also need to be in contact. Consider this a Holiday gift from both of us."

It was a full moment before the boys moved, realizing belatedly that Sirius intended for them to do so without waiting. Her ears tracked them, though she didn't dare to lift her head and watch them. There was shuffling, a grumble or two from Draco, before she heard her uncle pick something up off of his desk. It had to be the potion, he always kept his wand at hand, and she was completely unsurprised when he insisted both of them take at least half of the potion.

Viktor wasn't commenting, which she assumed meant that Sirius was actually telling something close to the truth, and taking advantage of the potion to sneak her closer for the tactile component of the spell. Or perhaps the Bulgarian hadn't actually seen the spell performed before. Quietly, discreetly, she stood, and leaped to the top of the nearest desk, observing where Sirius had arranged them laying at the front of the room, hands brushing. Draco had a mildly disgusted look on his face, though his body was otherwise slack, and Viktor was simply staring wide-eyed up at the ceiling. Neither were truly asleep, though they did appear to be rather out of it otherwise. Quickly, Hermione darted across the desks, jumped Draco's legs, and carefully curled over their hands.

" _ Auris et lingua donum linguarum _ ." She vaguely recognized her uncle performing a complicated wand motion along with his words, but was instead attempting to keep her body and mind completely relaxed, just in case it truly was necessary for the spell. Any thoughts on relaxing her muscles, however, flew away with the first shot of fire through her brain. Her body tingled, she smelled a tinge of sulfur, and a wave of dizziness hit her. And then it happened again. She was already stumbling away from the boys' hands, her head on fire and all sense of balance gone, as the repetitions of the spell continued, Sirius giving the boys their languages as well. Apparently he'd gifted to her first.

As the nauseating scent dissipated, and her vision began to clear, she clenched her claws, trying to keep the floor beneath her from heaving again. It felt as if someone had taken a muggle's electric mixer to her brain. "I suspect you'll be a bit dizzy and nauseous for a while. I hope you didn't have very large suppers." Sirius sounded amused still, and she growled lightly as she stumbled away. Who knew when the boys would have enough balance and presence of mind to get off of the floor... "The dizziness is a side effect of your mind shuffling the new language into your heads, and associating the words with what they mean and how they are said. It'll be gone in a bit. I would suggest that you remain where you are until both the potion, and the side effects of the spell, have eased."

* * *

Hermione's lingering headache was an irritation that she hadn't anticipated dealing with. Apparently Sirius hadn't been playing at anything when he'd claimed the boys needed to be in a state of relaxation for the transference spell. Every sound and whisper brought about shooting pain behind her eyes as her brain shuffled, and then reshuffled, in an attempt at settling the languages where they belonged. Words echoed after everything said, first in French, then Bulgarian, in the strangest sensation she had ever experienced. Her uncle had claimed that it would ease sometime within the next day or three, though she wasn't quite sure if she would be able to stand the pain for more than another day, nor the delayed understanding of anything said that the echoing of languages caused. Draco seemed particularly smug where he sat several tables away, and was obviously not suffering the same ill effects. Lucky prat with his ability to have that relaxation potion Sirius provided.

"Hermione?"  _ Hermione? Хърмаяни? _ The echo was almost as annoying as it was painful, and she squinted irritably at the redhead that had spoken to her. She felt like growling at him. "Are you okay?"  _ Ca va? Добре ли си? _ The echo delayed her response for a moment as she muddled through his meaning. It was even harder to piece together a response that he would understand.

"I..." She squinted again, focusing instead down at the breakfast on her plate, instead of his face. English. She  _ had _ to speak in English. "Fine."

"You... behind you?"  _ derrière toi... зад теб... _ He wrinkled his nose in confused irritation at her behavior, and gestured with a half-eaten biscuit. Swallowing her pained groan at having to muddle through his words, she turned to glower at whoever had decided to approach her. The boy looked like a first year, and seemed genuinely terrified to be speaking with her... which only served to irritate her further. She hadn't ever really done anything to the foolish first years, nor did she have a reputation for being that kind of person. What the bloody hell was he so afraid of?

"I... I..." the stammering was irritating as well, with the echoes of other languages bouncing around her skull, but with a deep, calming breath, the boy stared up at the enchanted ceiling, instead of focusing on her face, and held out a note with a shaking hand. "Professor Black said to speak very slowly." The words came out slowly, carefully enunciated, and she was grateful as the more purposeful speech helped to ease the meaning into her mind. "You are to rest for the day in the dorms, he's sent a note of excuse to your instructors. There should be a sample of something to relax you and help your headache in your room."

" **_Mer_ ** ... Thank-you." Hermione spoke just as slowly, trying not to snap or growl at the young fool, and halting the thanks she'd almost given in French. With a slow breath, she slipped away from the table, pointedly ignoring the concerned looks from Harry, and the curious gazes of the twins. If she wasn't careful,  _ that _ pair would likely set up something rather loud and obnoxious for the girls' dorms because they knew she had a headache. She completely forgot that they had only two days before the start of the Holiday, and thus several scrolls due.

* * *

Hermione groaned to herself softly, squinting out from under her blanket. The first day or two had been torturous, and she'd nearly hexed the twins for setting off some random explosion in the commons, heard too loudly in the dormitories. Perhaps it hadn't been a real explosion, but it had sounded as such. Words and languages had finally stopped echoing in her head the previous evening, though, and much though there was an aggravating ache at the base of her skull, it wasn't as agonizing as it had been at first. Likely, she would only be grumpy, and a potion from the infirmary would help to ease the pain. Most importantly, she'd missed the last two days of classes, and had to determine how to make those up and hand in her scrolls.

Her yearmates had already left the room for the day, probably off to breakfast or whatever holiday pursuit... she didn't really know what time it was. Hermione squirmed out of bed, not daring to look at herself in a mirror until she'd had a long soak in the baths, and perhaps a hot cup of tea. She felt hungover. The library, after she'd refreshed herself, would probably prove quiet and dark enough. She'd loved immersing herself in the stacks the few times she'd tried firewhiskey with the twins before.

By the time she'd bathed, dressed, and struggled a comb through her tangle of curls, Hermione felt marginally better. The not-quite-a-clock in the commons indicated that the time was just a bit into first period, as she watched one of the hands transfigure itself into the words "You're Late" from a normal clock hand. Whichever clever seventh year had done it, she would have to thank them... and then insist on finding out how it was done. Hermione wondered, briefly, if she could talk some boiled eggs and strong tea out of the elves in the kitchens before she retreated to the stacks. Either way, she'd need travel as a fox, lest one of the nosy Weasleys catch her out of bed.

Of course, the house elves were more than willing to ply her with as much food as she could stand in her brief trip to the kitchens. They all seemed to be faring well, too, flattered and grateful that she asked after their health and well-being during her quick meal. She did much the same just a bit after lunch, though she briefly wished that she dared to bring the food with her to the library. So long as the food wasn't messy, and she ate with only one hand, using the other to turn pages and write notes, she didn't particularly dislike the combination of nibbling on food while reading... but she daren't let Ron or Harry do such, lest stains appear when she wasn't looking, and Madam Pince was very strict about what was allowed in the library. At least she was already finished with her work for all of her classes, even if she'd still have to find out how to hand it in.

"Mione!" The exclamation made her wince, though luckily it wasn't for the pain in her head. The aching had mostly gone, finally, but she knew that she was in for too much questioning when her friends caught up with her. Sheepishly, she looked up at her best friends. Ginny, at least, had come by briefly enough to know that she'd been afflicted with a terrible headache. Harry plopped down next to her happily, eyes wide and eager. "You're finally better!"

"Told you, bloke. Too much studying'll kill ya." Ron mumbled, sliding instead into a wooden chair and staring at the chess set that had been settled on a secluded table. "She prolly barely survived. Her an' 'er bloody books."

"What happened?" Harry was still smiling, wiggling in place and ignoring Ron's grumbles. She shrugged absently, not minding much that Ron was more interested in the chess pieces. That boy was almost a genius with the game... if only he'd put that much focus into his studies.

"A spell gone wrong." She hazarded, making Ron snort and Harry roll his eyes. "I'm alright, really... it just... I wasn't ready for it, and my head suffered the consequences." That was the truth, mostly. If she'd been ready, and relaxed, as she should have been... then likely she wouldn't have suffered more than the initial dizziness that the others had. "It was not too much studying, Ronald. Honestly, I don't think there is such a thing. Were the professors upset with my absence?"

"You've missed everything, Hermione." He retorted. "Might as well 'ave been almost dying." His hand hesitated over one of the pieces, then withdrew, and he contemplated the board again. "It's been a riot in the meal hall and especially with classes ended."

"A couple of the Beauxbatons girls are part Veela." Harry offered, moving to stare out the window at the grounds below. The weather was unseasonably warm for December, and most of the students were out enjoying the warmth while they could. Admittedly, their cloaks and warmer clothes were still needed, but there was only a light layer of snow on the ground, the sky was clear, and the sun was shining merrily. There was a small gaggle of Ravenclaws easily in sight, and she noted his gaze on them. Even at a distance, and wearing the uniform robes and scarves of Hogwarts, the exchange students could be picked out by sight. "Fleur Delacour, in our house, and the older redhead, Madeline something. It was all over one of Skeeter’s articles."

Hermione focused briefly on the pair of girls he was staring at, noting that they lacked a Gryffindor scarf. Fleur wasn't with them. Her mind went briefly to when the French girl had carried her off after the dance, and how she'd thought that Fleur had seemed something just a bit more than fully human. Veela made an odd amount of sense... especially as France hosted several Veela colonies, as did some of the more northern, Slavic countries. The foreign creature blood was probably more than a little exciting to the Hogwarts students, as Veela were rather exotic to the United Kingdoms' wizarding community. "They're probably being stared at even more now." Her voice was pitying, and held a slightly aggressive edge. Fleur put up with it enough before... unfortunately likely due partially to the ethereal aura of Veela blood... but now with the knowledge out, people would stare blatantly simply because of it as well. Whatever reprieve she’d had with the attention on Viktor would be gone, especially with the Bulgarian scheduled to leave for the Holiday.

"Of course people are staring... they're practically Sirens." Harry sounded excited and scandalized, and she glared at the back of his messy hair. He was still staring out the window, as if he could pick out the supposed creature-blooded girl. She was fairly sure that if she caught him doing that while she was in her fox-form, she'd bite him. "No wonder Fleur's always seemed so... magical."

"We're  _ all _ magical, Harry. You go to a wizarding school." She deadpanned, nearly growling. Sometimes she wondered at the mental state of the boy's head. They'd been best friends for years, and at times he just seemed so clueless. "And they're not Sirens."

"You know what I mean, Mione. I've seen you watch her curiously sometimes too." Harry turned to roll his eyes at her, before looking out of the window again. "And aren't Veela just what Sirens evolved into? I mean, sirens aren't around anymore…"

"Not actually. Veela are as closely related to the Selkie as to Sirens, moreso sometimes." Hermione offered with a slight shrug, glancing over at Ron, who was completely ignoring the conversation. The boy might be a bit of a Quidditch nut, but sometimes he knew even more about magical creatures than she did… which was frightening in a way. "The Veela clans and families have always been a bit vague on the subject, but supposedly the start of Veela heritage began with a Selkie male mating to either a Siren or a bird-maiden… and that over time they became their own species. It's why Veela are prone to favoring wizards that are Animagi with attention, be that good or ill… instinctively their interest is drawn, because of the distant Selkie heritage."

Her eyes widened, and she tried not to let out a panicked squeak as her own words registered. That explained Fleur's attraction to her fox, at least a bit. The girl wouldn't fully realize that it was an animagi, but she'd feel drawn to it. She wondered what Fleur and this Madeline girl behaved like around Sirius and McGonagall.

Harry was silent for another moment, running a hand through his already wild hair and still staring out the window. Then, finally, he turned back toward her, looking exasperated. "What the bloody hell is a Selkie then?" He squinted, dropping his hand, and made a slight pout.

"Blimey, Harry, you never pay attention in Magical Creatures." Ron scoffed, not even looking up from his chess board. "They're aquatic magical creatures that transfigure back and forth from human to seal… but instead of being like wizards their true form is the seal and the temporary form is the human. They speak the same language as merfolk… and are bloody vicious when you interrupt their… erm… games…."

"Games?" Harry glanced at Hermione when Ron refrained from expanding upon that information, re-absorbed into his next move against the mystery opponent. Hermione's eyes widened and she blushed, quickly excusing herself. That was not the type of 'game' she was about to explain about to Harry. If he didn't know what Ron meant… or buggeration, if he  _ did _ and still didn't know how it could be considered games, she wasn't going to explain it.

"I have to go see my Uncle." Hermione turned and bolted, ignoring Harry's shouted question about what games they meant, and hurried away from the Gryffindor tower, still blushing. She'd barely gotten over her headache, she didn't need another from sheer embarrassment and Harry's cluelessness.

She was still blushing when she caught up to her Uncle and received guidance on how, exactly, she was to go about making up her last few days out of classes. The hour being quizzed on her new languages helped, at least, to distract her completely from Harry’s cluelessness.

Only a day later, avoiding curious students again littering the hallways by taking secret passages as the fox, Hermione escaped to the Willow’s landing. Trotting out of the shadows, she found Fleur tucked away among the roots, an extra blanket around her as she paged through a book. Likely this place had become a retreat for the French exchange students, and the others would join her eventually. At least it hadn’t been a favored private spot for Hermione’s private studies for the past year or so, and now she was avoiding the same press of crowd that Fleur was. She had mostly been drawn there, over the course of the year, to check on Fluer, or as random instinct. The blonde seemed a bit irritated, but not overly upset, which meant that she'd probably noticed the extra staring, but wasn't mortally offended by it.

" **My little friend.** " The words floated easily through her mind, and her ears twitched toward the girl that had, apparently, noticed her lurking at the entrance to the area. It took her until she had almost reached Fleur to realize that the blonde had spoken in French. "Merde, zese Eenglish. Zey do not understand it  _ rude _ to stare as eef I were... what eez the expression... to do a trick." Hermione looked up at the girl with big, sympathetic eyes, and a soft smile curved the previously pursed lips. "Eet iz not as eef zey do not 'ave ozers of creature blood 'ere." Fleur sighed, curling a hand around Hermione's furry back and casually moving her fingers in a petting motion as the fox got settled next to her. She'd given up on resisting the intoxicating petting of the blonde, especially as Fleur obviously needed someone to confide in. "Ze groundskeeper, 'oo teaches ze classes  _ about _ magical creatures, obviously 'as giant blood in 'im." Fleur huffed, and Hermione snorted. She hadn't really considered it before, though that should have been obvious. "And ze Charms professeur, 'e is just as obviously of goblin blood." Fleur briefly wrinkled her aquiline nose, and then squinted down at the fox, Hermione staring back up at the blonde attentively. "I 'ave seen zis before, ze goblin mixes... and zey always surprise me.  _ Goblin _ ." The wrinkle returned, and Hermione probably would have laughed if she were currently human.

Babble of the like continued for a while thereafter, moving eventually from the obvious presence of those with creature blood, and that the students shouldn't find her such a novelty, to idle observations about the instruction methods in her classes compared to when she had been at her home school. Hermione didn't doubt that Fleur had complained about or commented on the differences more than once before, but it was still somewhat calming to listen to the girl's voice float around her as she relaxed into the petting, ears twitching to prove she was still listening. Fleur was in a talkative mood, probably pent up frustration from the staring, but she was, at least, not looking so aggravated anymore.

"You are always here, Fleur." The teasing voice brought Hermione's attention over to the entrance, head up and alert, ears perked. " **It is good that this place is so soothing. An escape from the rude little beasts at this school.** " Hermione tilted her head, eyeing the girl suspiciously. The same pair of girls had come, and Hermione might have growled at the words, if she hadn't thought something similar, if less biting, about the staring not much earlier that day. " **With your temper, it is a wonder that many of them survive their encounters with you. Did you hex anyone today?** "

" **Only one of the snake-boys... in the green.** " Fleur sighed, shrugging, and trailed her fingers through Hermione's fur again. " **He thought that because my grandmother is Veela, that I would welcome advances. It is surprising, but the annoying little blonde boy, that befriended the Bulgarian, hexed him first.** " Fleur grumbled and huffed, and Hermione stared at her for a moment. Draco had been defended her?

The redhead eyed the fox warily as they settled around the French blonde, and Hermione eyed her back just as warily, wondering why Draco had cared. " **I know that one. I believe he has the blood as well. It is in the eyes, and nose.** " Hermione remembered Harry mentioning that this one was part-Veela as well, and shifted again, a little closer to Fleur. " **With hair like his, I would imagine him either very lucky in his human blood, or that his Veela is of your grandmother's family.** "

Fleur was quiet for a moment, and Hermione realized that she was eyeing the redhead with as much suspicion as Hermione had been, hand protectively around the curl of her back. "We 'ave...  **My mother has a cousin somewhere in England. It would be unsurprising to find that he is somehow related to her.** " The blonde sighed and shifted uncomfortably. " **At least if there is a Professor it is not so bad. The Defense professor has forbade them to have me as a distraction. Whatever these points are for, he took fifty from one of the boys for staring too long at me.** " Madeline, the redhead, tittered an annoying giggle in response. " **Oh silence. He is not that attractive... I do not understand your interest in him. He is intelligent at least, and answers many questions that I have about cursebreaking.** "

" **You study too much, Fleur.** " The words, so familiar, even in another language, made Hermione huff out an indignant yip, and several of the girls laughed. The general consensus seemed to be that the fox agreed with them. She huffed a sigh, settling in to let them gossip and complain around her. Draco and Viktor were to be gone that afternoon, and she was debating perhaps keeping a closer eye on Fleur, with the fools at the school apparently worse than expected now.


	6. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not very sure about how I feel regarding the Fleur interludes....  
> Can anyone guess how many chapters I already have re-written/done?

"Well what, exactly, do you  _ want _ to do after Hogwarts?" one of the Hufflepuff beaters asked jovially, juggling his bat. Hermione smirked slightly at the question. She'd come out to the Holiday practice game between the teams -awfully good natured of them, and not actually involving a Snitch- due to her friends' complaints that she was never around anymore. Admittedly she hadn't been about much since her time begun training with Sirius, and her excuse of studying for the OWLS was met too easily with rolled eyes and scoffs, but it had brought about the subject of quickly approaching exams. "You have to have some idea. The OWLS place you for sixth and seventh years, and you should concentrate on what you'll need. I wanted to work in potions and cures, but Snape requires an O on your Potions exam for his advanced classes... so I'll probably have to study it in Mastery Schooling instead."

Harry and Ron both flushed brightly as the Twins finally returned with the stray Bludgers that had gone off wild after the quick match. "Potions? Fred only got an E on that 'n, so we're split that period." George grumbled, shrugging. "I got an E on my Charms, though, so we're even."

"Hermione's the only one of you that shouldn't need to study for it, and she's the only one doing it, mates." Fred laughed, ruffling Ron's hair playfully. "She's already stolen all our notes from last year."

"I did not steal them!" She huffed indignantly, glaring at the boys. "I  _ won _ them." She growled and grumbled lightly under her breath at the echoing laughter of both boys, and a few of the Hufflepuff players that had stuck around to chat. "And your notes from History of Magic were useless. If you could even call those doodles notes." She tightened her scarf around her neck, purposefully looking away to study some of the visible Christmas decorations.

"Well... erm... I was thinking of, maybe, becoming an Auror... like Sirius." The bashful mumble from Harry drew the attention of the majority of the group, and Ginny rolled her eyes along with Ron. Hermione smiled, knowing how much the boy admired her uncle. They'd known each other longer than she had, and she suspected that his influence over Harry as Godfather had always been stronger than most because of James Potter's time away to play professionally.

One of the Hufflepuff Chasers whistled, obviously impressed, and grumbled about wishing he'd known how tough some of Professor Black's seventh year lessons were before deciding on the class when he was younger. Ginny, and another Gryffindor Chaser, snorted and nodded, knowing well that Sirius did not go easy on them just because he was a friend of the family. Often, they felt as if he was even harder on them, especially Hermione. "Doesn't Auror training require you to pass advanced potions?" The Beater that had started the questioning asked, eyebrows raised. "Getting an O is hard, mate. I was always pretty decent at potions, and I couldn't manage it."

"Personally, I won't settle for below an O in Defense, Potions, or Transfiguration. It would be nice to get one in Charms and Runes as well... but I won't insist on retaking them at the end of summer if I receive an E." Hermione sighed. She didn't know if she was going to manage an O on all of her exams, with all of the time she'd taken off of studying for her animagi training. Nevertheless, she had no doubts whatsoever about Transfiguration, after so much study to help her return transformation, and she'd been studying her uncle's advanced Defense books for longer than she was supposed to have access to them. "We can study Potions together, Harry, if you really want to be an Auror." She eyed Ron skeptically. "Any idea what you want to do, Ronald?"

"I dunno." He wrinkled his nose and adjusted some of the uniform padding he hadn't removed when the match had ended. "Only thing I'm really good at is Magical Creatures." His reluctant, embarrassed admittance made the twins laugh again, teasing him in their echoing twinspeak about making up his mind quickly  _ Ronnikins _ . "What do you think Krum is studying?" Ron asked after several moments in a desperate attempt to change the subject. "Mate's got his career made. Don't see why he didn't just join the National team."

"He's focusing on History and Charms." Ginny offered offhandedly, surprising everyone. Hermione smiled knowingly at her friend, making the youngest Weasley blush. "He'd probably have good notes for History if you needed them, Hermione."

"What do you know about Krum?" one of the twins demanded suspiciously; Hermione thought it was George. He had an outer appearance of playful mischief, but she could sense his underlying protectiveness. Ginny glared at her brother instead of answering. "He's only ever in the library or with that prat, Malfoy."

"He's talked to me, a few times, when I was studying." Ginny's casual delivery did nothing to assuage her brother's suspicion, but Hermione tried to distract him anyway.

"Draco really isn't all that horrible." She shrugged, earning scoffs all around. "He's a bit arrogant, sure, but he  _ is _ brilliant, and he has his good moments. I bet if more people would give him a chance, and actually be nice to him," here she glared around at all three of the redheaded boys and Harry, "he would thaw a bit. Viktor likes him, and  _ he's _ a very nice young man."

"He's a brat, yeah... but I think it's just because everyone expects it of him now." Ginny agreed, shrugging. "He's my year, and I see him in the classes we share with Slytherin... I wouldn't invite him to Christmas dinner, but I wouldn't leave him on his own in a pinch either. You know, before they left, Draco hexed one of the other Slytherins for bothering the Veela girl."

After an uncomfortable silence regarding that revelation, talk dissolved into how the boy behaved in the Quidditch pitch, and thereafter into talk of the sport, instead of school. Hermione could only hope that her friends had taken it to heart when the other players had cautioned about studying for the OWLS. She briefly considered searching out Krum when he returned and asking if he had any old notes to spare from History at his old school... but even if he was aware of her ability to speak his native language now, it did not translate to the written word, and all of his notes would be in Cyrillic. Of course there was the possibility of finding a translation charm to change the letters into something she  _ could _ read, but the research to find such a spell, and then translate every page, would equate to studying the material from books anyway.

The next evening as she settled into the common room, she was relieved to see that the crowd of students that had been lingering at the school had almost halved with Viktor gone and the actual holiday almost upon them. Though the Weasleys would only be leaving for Christmas day, and Harry for the eve and day, the lessened crowd and murmur of gossiping students was a relief. They were all likely outside having another snowball fight, the previous night’s blizzard having provided several meters of powder for them to play in. Personally she preferred the warmth of the common room’s fire. It was almost as comfortable as the few times she’d lain against Fleur's side in the fur, relaxing at the willow’s landing.

The girl's nose twitched and she jerked back just slightly, hoping it wasn't too obvious that she'd done so, as she realized she'd had that thought. With the French girl on her mind, and confused embarrassment from the thought of being pet as a fox, Hermione glanced about in absent search of the blonde. Fleur was, oddly, curled by the common room's fireplace, reading yet another book. There was still staring from some of the other Gryffindors, though most seemed to be occupied with whatever entertainment their friends were being, but Hermione still might have thought the girl would seek out a quieter venue of study. The library perhaps, or nestled in the roots of that tree.

"Oy, Hermione." She jerked her head back around, staring wide-eyed at the twins. Her nose twitched, taking in their snow-covered jumpers, and thought that maybe it was Fred talking. “You should have joined us! We dumped Ron and Harry into a snowbank!” She eyed behind them, noticing the boys looking much more waterlogged and snow-packed than the twins or Ginny.

“She doesn’t like getting snow in her hair.” Harry offered absently, shaking off more of the snow near the fireplace and peeling off his mostly soaked jumper. He offered a glare at the older boys, then smiled gently at Hermione. “Is Sirius taking you anywhere for Christmas? We’re having Snape over this year, so he’s probably not coming.”

“We wouldn’t push her in like you.” One twin offered, looking offended.

“She’d hex us.” The other said, possibly George.

“We like her better too.” They finished in tandem, maybe-Fred grinning broadly. Harry and Ron both favored them with unimpressed glares, though Ron looked a bit more ruffled by the statement. Hermione smiled mysteriously, shaking her head at the boys. True she’d helped them with a few of their pranks over the past few years, but she often thought they were a bit more ridiculous than necessary. The idea of visiting the Potters for the Holiday, especially with Snape in attendance, was less than appealing, though, so she pondered on plans for the next week while they bickered. Sirius, if they did go, would probably antagonize the broody professor, and she didn’t like spending too much time around him herself. Mostly she thought he was probably a Legilimens, and feared discovery of her latest secret. When he wasn’t being overbearing in class, she actually admired his Potions brilliance.

Hermione shivered with one of the breezes stirring up in the castle. It was proving to be a rather chilly night, and as old as Hogwarts was, the castle could get rather drafty at times. Idly, she glanced back at Fleur again, and noticed the blonde huddle closer to the fire. That was probably why she'd stayed in the commons, instead of studying in her room, or going off to the library or the tree's balcony. This would be the warmest place for her to read.

"Hey Harry, do you still have that enchanted muggle-blanket you borrowed from me last year?" Hermione wondered aloud, her attention half on the French girl.

"Yeah. Mum made me one like it, in Gryffindor colors." Harry smiled, attempting to gain her attention from wherever she was glancing at. "Did you want it back?"

"Er... yeah. Thanks. Could you bring it down for me? I think I might want it for when I inevitably end up studying for the OWLS somewhere chilly." She turned and offered the boy a bright smile. The twins guffawed, and Harry blushed, Ginny commenting beneath the racket of her brothers' noise that she'd thought that Hermione had already cast warming charms on her bed and cloak.

* * *

Fleur shivered slightly as she shuffled into her room in the Gryffindor dormitory. Warm as the Hogwarts uniforms seemed to be sometimes, the castle was still dreadfully drafty, and what she would call an ice storm had blown in from the Scottish countryside. She missed the warmth of Beauxbatons' golden halls, and regularly wondered why she had bid for one of the transfer positions. It was true that the Defense Professor was rather talented, as was the little Charms Professor, but their Potions Master was a vile man, and the ghost that taught History was horrid. Her only comforts for this dreadful place were the little fox and the possibility that the Defense Professor would advance her training to Mastery level before she'd graduated.

She’d had to stay at this miserably drafty castle over the Christmas holiday, her parents unexpectedly bound up in their work, and the constant press of nosy students only compounded her dislike of the cold. Fleur paused, her brows knitting in annoyance and suspicion as she saw an object perched upon her bed. None of those doting boys could ascend to the female dormitory, so she doubted it being from one of her in-thrall admirers, but there were few others that had paid her positive attention. Approaching cautiously, she peered at the object, considering a few detection spells to see if it was cursed, maybe from someone disliking creature blood.

_ The castle can be drafty in the worst parts of winter. This should help to keep you warm. Thank-you for trying to protect me from Peeves. Happy Christmas. _

The short note was casually pinned to the top of what appeared to be a small blanket. Even as it seemed to be from the little fox, however that was possible, Fleur cast a few detection spells over the thing. It was enchanted, that much came back glaringly obvious, but she found no danger or ill intent. Carefully touching, and then unfolding, the gift, she found a larger and larger blanket, seemingly bigger than the appearance of it folded would indicate. When she'd finally opened it all the way, it was a gorgeously embroidered woolen blanket depicting a vaguely familiar painting. Curiously, she debated between using it, or waiting until she'd had it more thoroughly investigated, but another of those horrid drafts tickled at the back of her neck, and that seemed to settle the matter. They'd a hospital wing in the school, and she hadn't found anything too obviously dangerous about it, so she'd risk it for the extra layer of warmth while she slept.

Fleur's eyes widened in shock as she finally slid beneath her blankets after readying for bed. She hadn't the warmest evening wear with her, not having anticipated the magical school being so chilled of a night, and hadn't been the most comfortable previously because of this. Her brief hope that once when she'd brought the fox with her, of a fuzzy body to help with warmth as she slept, had been dashed. This, though... with the woven blanket draped over her bed, she felt as toasty as if she lay beneath a midsummer's noonday sun. Her toes curled in pleasure, and she smiled softly. Whoever was behind this was either connected with the fox, or the fox itself, and she much appreciated that wonderful individual. Why, with how small the thing could fold down, she could easily tote it around with her for warmer study about the castle. Fleur fell asleep to pleasant thoughts of reading wrapped in the blanket, a little furry body in her lap.

* * *

Hermione smirked to herself as she hurried to catch up with her Uncle, scarf and cloak comfortably wrapping her in warmth. Though they had chosen to stay at Hogwarts over the holiday, neither quite willing to chance too much time spent with Professor Snape, Sirius intended to apparate them to Grimmauld Manor for Christmas itself. While she would be happy to see Kreacher again, she was even more satisfied to have passed Fleur as the taller girl moved to exit the Gryffindor commons, blanket and book in hand. Hopefully the blonde would have a pleasant enough holiday as well.

“Ready to go Hermione? I’ve wonderful news!” Sirius exclaimed, hand out to lead her away from the grounds so that they could apparate to the Manor. She smiled sweetly, trotting a bit faster to keep up with his long strides, and pushed all thoughts of the transfers from her mind. Viktor was at his home, with Draco probably enjoying his holiday away from the family, and Fleur would likely be able to comfortably avoid the curious strays well enough. Her uncle was flushed with whatever happy news he’d promised, though he seemed a little nervous as they trudged through the snow to the edge of the grounds.

“What news?” she finally asked, surprised to see Kreacher waiting for them at the turn in the path that indicated the end of the anti-apparition barrier. The droopy-looking house elf was bundled cozily in a warm wrap of fleece, and seemed almost as excited as her uncle. Excitement on Kreacher was an… odd… look. His droopy ears twitched out from his fleece covering, huge eyes sparkling within their wrinkled depths, and he wiggled on occasion.

“Thank-you, Kreacher.” Sirius held out a hand, allowing the elf to hand him a rolled bit of parchment from within the depths of warmth. “You may return, if you’d like. We’ll be right behind you.”

“Hello Miss Black! Kreacher has made miss’s favorite foods to celebrate!” He wiggled once more before glaring pointedly at Sirius. “Kreacher will see to it miss has a perfect Holiday, yes.”

“Hello Kreacher,” her smile and tone was warm, bringing a bashful smile to the wrinkled old elf. “Thank-you. Go back to the Manor to get warm, and be sure your feet are fully thawed. I know you still won’t wear shoes.”

“Yes Miss Black.” Kreacher nodded and bowed, popping out of sight with a loud crackle of magic before he even stood straight again. Before Hermione could ask after what the occasion was, as Sirius had never forced the elf to stand in the cold weather in wait before, her uncle offered her the parchment, and a small murmur of warning, before disapparating them away.

“Welcome home, Hermione!” The words from her uncle were too obviously exaggerated as they arrived in the library of Grimmauld Manor, and she only looked at him in skeptical askance. His hands and arms went out wide in a gesture, still smiling too broadly and proudly. Still unsure what his game was, she huffed and unrolled the parchment.

> _ Sirius, you’ll be happy to know that your request has finally been honored. I have just heard from a friend in the Department of Magical Law that the official record of lineage is approved, and Hermione is named the official Heir of House Black. I should be able to fetch the Obliviation Clause Contract for you by the end of January. _
> 
> _ ~Shacklebot. _

Hermione blinked a few times, still not fully understanding. “I’m.. your heir?”

“I told you it was only a matter of time!” Sirius crowed, strutting toward the doors so that they could join Kreacher in the kitchen. “With you named as official heir, while Ms. Coulter has legal Muggle custody of you, according to Wizarding law you are an official member and resident of this house.” He smirked over a shoulder. “The Obliviation Clause Contract, which we shall have her sign, will allow her to continue existence without being Obliviated of magical knowledge, and have either shared custody or visitation with you.”

She stared after him in shocked silence, mouth slightly open. Home… he’d welcomed her  _ home _ . Hermione wasn’t sure if she wanted to scream or cry. A part of her, an aching, hollow part of her, did love Ms. Coulter. The woman was her foster mother, much though they had an oddly cold relationship. The greater part of her, though, wallowed in the knowledge that she could finally live somewhere that the whole of her belonged. Sirius would allow her owl freedom within the Manor and grounds, and Kreacher keep her company when she wanted to just read with a friend in silence. Shared custody or visitation? Sirius had even understood that she’d not want to be completely cut off from the woman.

Swallowing down the knot in her throat, Hermione ran after him, almost skidding to a halt in the dining room. Kreacher had actually done more to clean up the Manor than usual- all signs of dust and misuse on the furniture and walls had been scrubbed away. Their dining table,  _ their _ dining table, was covered in a lush tablecloth, with a selection of warm, but simple foods available. There was even a third, small, chair and place set for him to join them.

“Kreacher dislikes Lord Black, Miss.” The elf said in his grumbling tone, which Sirius ignored as usual. After Hermione had ordered that the elf always tell her the truth when he told her anything, Sirius had gotten to hear a great deal of truths about the house elf’s dislike of him. “Kreacher does. Kreacher loves Mistress Black, though. Kreacher will eat with the Blacks whenever Mistress Black wants.”

“Miss, please. I know you won’t call me Hermione, but at least keep it at Miss.” She swallowed back more tears, smiling at the little elf, who bobbed in acknowledgement. “I want you to eat with me, with us, whenever you’re comfortable. I’ve already told you that, no matter whatever place you have here, you’re also a friend.”

“Yes Miss.” He bobbed again, and she was surprised that he slid into his seat instead of bustling off to the kitchen. As Sirius settled into his large chair as well, she took a deep breath, overwhelmed. A snap from the house elf, and their plates were filled. “Kreacher is happy that Miss will live here.”

“I’m happy too Kreacher.” She smiled brightly. Harry would have a fit when he found out he’d missed their celebratory meal. “Maybe we can read together in the library more often then, yes?” The little elf only nodded bashfully, completely ignoring her uncle, who chuckled and shook his head. He didn’t understand Hermione’s insistence on behaving with the elf in such a manner, but he’d tolerated it from the start. “Thank you, Uncle Sirius.”

“We’ll have to renovate one of the rooms more thoroughly for you this summer. Perhaps we can also clean out some of the others as guest rooms for your friends to visit, instead of just Lupin’s room.” Sirius chuckled lightly. “He’ll probably cry when he finds out, by the way. The old man is so weepy.”

“When is Uncle Remus visiting again?” Her eyes went wide, and she noticed Kreacher glancing curiously at the man too.

“He’s still working on his book out in Romania. Likely not until midsummer day at the earliest.” Sirius shrugged. “He sent along wishes of a Happy Christmas with his last owl, and a few trinkets for you and the boys.”

Hermione smiled shyly, holding back the statement that this already felt like more than enough of a present. As they continued their meal, Kreacher only occasionally grumbling something quietly at her in his usual way, she wondered if they could perhaps plant something like a Lalac Willow in their small backyard. Curling up there at Hogwarts, with Fleur, was more pleasant than she’d really thought it would be. It would make the Manor feel even more like home.


	7. What May Be Next

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize again for the butchered French accent attempted here.
> 
> After too much thought and caffeine, I have also adjusted the Viktor/Ginny dynamic a bit to make room for future plans therein (and reduce the creep factor a bit).

Fleur breathed out nervously, reaching into her shoulder bag to brush a hand against the folded blanket within. She’d managed to acquire an appointment with the Defense professor, though admittedly their term break was almost done. More and more of those English ruffians were returning from their time away, and though it hadn’t seemed to thin much, she was regretting not enjoying what little reprieve it had been from the press of bodies. Holding her head high, as her mother had taught her, Fleur rapped smartly on the old door to the man’s offices.

“If you are Miss Delacour, you may enter. If you are my niece, I’m not lending you any more books until you get a detention this year!” The words echoing through the doorway startled Fleur slightly, her brows knitting for a moment in consideration of what the man could possibly mean. “If it is anyone else, I’ve an appointment so leave me be.”

She waited for a second, still pondering what the man could possibly be wanting his niece to get a detention for, before she finally cracked the door to peek in curiously. His dark hair was a little more ruffled than she was used to seeing, and his robes more casual than he wore to classes. The cozy looking turtleneck that peaked out of the robes was likely much warmer than her own clothing, and she made a mental note to visit the library later to find a warming charm that worked better than the simple thing she knew. She couldn’t just huddle under her new blanket all of the time.

“Professeur?” Her eyebrow quirked and she offered him an otherwise blank stare, before he smiled a far too toothy smile and beckoned her in. “Do you always eensist zat your relatives… er… trouver des problemes?”

“Only when she’s courting stress through too much study.” His smile didn’t waver, and he waved her again to one of the chairs perched comfortably by his desk. The fireplace, which was not afforded to every professor’s office, she knew, was crackling with a warm blaze. “How can I help you, Miss Delacour? Would you like for me to have an elf fetch you a warm drink? It’s still winter break, I can afford to be indulgent.”

“No, monsieur. Merci.” She smiled hesitantly, settling into the chair delicately. “Oui. I ‘ave come to zis school so zat I may obtain a wider variety of experience. I weesh to obtain un Mastery in zis, what you Eenglish call ze Defence Against Dark Arts. Ma maman is similar to what you would call un Auror, zou not quite ze same. It is somezing like un cursebreaker et enquêteur.” She paused, collecting her thoughts, and observed the increasingly curious look on the man’s face. “I wish to be somezing like ‘er, when I am finished with schooling. I ‘ad ‘oped, Monsieur Black, zat you may ‘ave somezing more zat I may study et practise. I ‘ave found zat you seem more, ‘ow you say, compeetent zan ze professeur I ‘ad at Beauxbatons.”

She observed him silently, patient, as he mulled over her words. Sometimes she cursed her thick accent, and that Madame Maxime did not choose to spell her with the English language as she had for the others. True that her parents had insisted she learn at least that, if not also other languages, when home from schooling, but this inelegant tongue was so troublesome to speak without magical aid. It appeared the man had understood her, though, and likely seen through her attempt at flattery.

“While I may attempt to discourage my little niece from spending too much time and stress over study, I do not scorn her knowledge.” He finally said, making Fleur quirk her brows at him again. “I suppose that I would be a poor professor if I denied you that same token.” The smirk on his lips, growing as he considered her, made a cold chill run up her spine. “While I cannot guarantee your level of prowess, I can guide you. Perhaps if you do well enough with independent study, I can sponsor you into a true mastery program when you’ve graduated.” He paused, almost reaching for something. “Supposing, of course, that you remain in Hogwarts until you’ve finished your seventh year. Had you intended to return next autumn, for your final year of schooling?”

“Oui, Professeur, if I found reason to. We do not ‘ave zese _NEWTS_ in Beauxbatons, but if it shall ‘elp me obtain un place in Mastery schooling, I shall remain.” She sighed slightly, not looking forward to another year away from half of her friends. Then again, it would be no different when they’d all gone off to their chosen occupations and Mastery schools. “Do zey grant zat much of a difference?”

“Oh yes. It actually took me two extra years to gain entry to my Mastery schooling as I hadn’t scored well enough in certain areas and hadn’t a sponsor.” Professor Black laughed lightly, as if it weren’t an admittance he shouldn’t have given. “You’re easily one of the brightest witches in your year, though, so I doubt that to be a problem for you.” He smiled broadly then, all gleaming teeth and sparkling eyes. For only that moment she understood why her friend was so fascinated with him. “If you would be so kind as to give me a bit of time, I can put together some light reading material for you to go over. It will prepare you for a term project that I think will give you the extra work you wished.”

“Oui. Oui! Merci beaucoup!” She smiled brightly, standing to shake his hand happily. This had gone much better than she’d expected. Though she’d heard rumors that the man was a bit of an eccentric, and encouraged healthy amounts of trouble and mischief, she hadn’t thought he would be so open to her requesting special work. Perhaps her luck would hold strong, and she’d find the warming charm that had been used on her blanket.

* * *

“Hey, Hermione?” Harry mumbled as they exited their first Charms class of the new year, reaching forward to catch her sleeve. She stepped to the side, out of the way, and arched an eyebrow at him. He looked embarrassed, and she wondered what had soured his mood. When her friends had returned, and she’d shared the news that Sirius had imparted, they’d all been thrilled, particularly Harry. He’d almost been as happy about the potential change in living accommodations as she was, and floated around with the knowledge that she’d probably be at the Manor any time he and his father visited it.

Once he’d remained quiet, fidgeting nervously for a full minute, she huffed and flicked a stray curl from her face. At least she’d finally worked out a slight modification to her serum potion that it wouldn’t frizz too wildly after a change. “Yes Harry?”

“Erm… you said… you’d help us study, since Ron and I are so bloody behind now?” He blushed, looking as if she were about to throw her books at him. “Mum was talking to Snape when he visited over the Holiday, and asked if he thought I would score well enough for his NEWT courses. She knows I want to be an Auror.” The pause, and then increase in blushing and slight look of irritation on his face, told her exactly what the brooding Potions professor had responded with. “Snape is always nicer to mum, but he said something about not having seen me studying in the Library, or anywhere, and that he doubted anyone neglecting their studies would reach their NEWT courses.”

Hermione scoffed lightly, trying not to laugh directly in her oldest friend’s face. Snape was right. No matter how intelligent Harry _could_ be when he wanted, if he didn’t even try to prepare, he would have trouble.

“I know. I _know_ . We should have listened to you on the train!” Harry threw himself against the wall dramatically, forlornly staring out at the collection of students likely moving towards lunch. “Mum gave me her old Potions notes to try studying from, they look like they have Snape’s scrawl all over them too, but Sirius said that he won’t even be doing his classes the same next year. He’ll be having a Continuation class as _well_ as Advanced, starting with our year. If I don’t make an E or O, I won’t even be in Advanced for _that_.” He leaned his head back, messy hair pressed against the old stone of the wall and flattening out to either side as a result. Hermione tried not to laugh at her friend’s dramatic antics again. This was why she loved Harry, even at his whiniest, he didn’t fail to amuse her. “Please? I’m alright with Charms, yeah, but the others? Please?”

Hermione eyed him as sternly as she could manage until he cringed and tried pouting at her. “Fine. Fine!” He smiled broadly and she pointed an admonishing finger in his face. “Don’t smile like that. In _both_ of those classes you’re weak in _theory_ , not practice, so that means _reading_ and _studying_. I need to return a book to Uncle anyway. We may as well fetch one of the others for you to read while we’re at it.” She huffed again, turning and marching toward her uncle’s classrooms instead of the dining hall. “And I really do mean reading Harry! I can’t explain every page, so you’ll have to actually sit to do it yourself sometimes. Quidditch can wait for actual practices and games. So, too, can exploding snap with Ronald. Where is he anyway?”

“He’s probably rushing to the chessboard again. They’ve been dancing around Check since he returned from Holiday.” Harry sounded far too chipper still. He’d finally seen who was playing their friend too, and was probably just as amused as she was. “He’s _still_ desperate to find out who’s playing him. I can’t wait to see his expression when it happens.” Hermione allowed herself to laugh lightly at the thought as well. “What book do you have? Maybe I could read that instead?”

“Oh, it won’t work very well for you. It’s seventh year or beginning Mastery at least.” She mumbled, shuffling through her bag as they got closer to assure that she actually had it with her. “I’ve been puzzling through it for most of this school year. The live wards mostly. Uncle will probably know what to suggest to prepare you for the OWLS best. You should also read through the whole of the assigned texts as well. Hmn, perhaps not Potions- Professor Snape never really uses it much.”

“What are you doing studying _mastery_ defense books, Hermione?” Harry caught up to walk beside her finally, a baffled grin twitching at his lips. “They’re just the OWLS!” He laughed lightly, and she blushed in response as she shook her head. “If I didn’t know you so well, ‘Mione, that big brain of yours would be bloody frightening.”

“I told you, it has a brilliant section on complex living wards... and submission hexes. It was fascinating.” She slowed her steps, smile and words trailing off as they approached her uncle’s classroom. Harry’s eyes widened just slightly at the sight of a tall, blonde girl stood just inside of the doorway. He glanced quickly between the blonde’s back and Hermione’s suddenly reluctant expression, flushing only slightly and whispering in excited confusion the word _Games_. “Er…”

“Perhaps I was keeping it in my office?” Sirius’s voice trailed out to them as they drew to a halt not far behind the blonde. Hermione had flushed a bit, ducking her head to make sure she wasn’t too obviously visible to the other girl, with Harry not-so-subtly whispering that she still needed to tell him what _games_ meant. Inside of the room, Sirius was leaning quite literally halfway into a storage trunk. “Miss Delacour I honestly believed I had that last book here, but I may needs request you return after dinner while I continue to look for it. Admittedly it has been a year or three since I last perused its pages.”

Her uncle stood, his curling hair flying about as messily as the Potters’ did, and scratched confusedly at his scruffy cheek. Harry stifled a laugh at the man’s disheveled state, and Hermione mumbled a light apology as she quickly slid into the room. “Hermione! Harry! I’ll be right with you two, let me just finish up with young Fleur here.”

“Hello, Professor Black.” Hermione smiled brightly at him, now facing mostly away from the blonde. A paranoid worry shined in her too-wide eyes, knowing that of those in the school, Fleur was the one most likely to be able to identify her as an animagus, should she recognise any similarities to the fox. “We’re sorry to interrupt. Here” She quickly pulled the book from her bag, still careful to keep her face and eyes away from the other girl, and shoved it at her Uncle with an apologetic shrug. She hadn’t really told him that she’d been spending more time with the blonde while a fox. “I’m just returning this book, and requesting a meeting later? Harry wanted some extra study suggestions for his OWLS.”

Hermione shuffled to the side, still trying to angle herself so that her features and eyes were hidden from the other girl. Glancing carefully in that direction, attempting to hide her gaze as she did so, she could see the puzzled look on the boy’s face. “Our apologies, Miss Delacour.”

"This is what I was looking for!" Sirius laughed, stepping around Hermione and pressing the book into the blonde's hands. Fluer was looking at Hermione in a mixture of fascination and irritation, and Harry quickly stepped out of the way in case she decided to rush off in a huff, smiling to himself. "Here, this was the last of them. Read through both of the books on theory that I already gave you, and once you’ve read through this one at least once, I’ve the actual tools you’ll need for this project. Do _not_ attempt anything inside of this until we’ve spoken about it."

"Oui. Merci, Proffeseur Black." She answered softly, finally turning her gaze back to the man. A bit skeptically, Fleur glanced at the semi-worn book that had been handed to her. "Ah... she eez... 'ow old?"

"Nevermind that." Sirius gave the girl a stern look, his voice not quite a growl, though Hermione could just imagine his hackles rising a bit if he were in fur. "This was one of my Auror Mastery books, and that is why it is very important that you do not attempt anything within until we have discussed it."

"Oui." Fleur nodded curtly, glanced once more at Hermione, and then walked stiffly away, seeming to not even notice Harry standing there too. He laughed nervously, shaking his head.

"I would ask what you were doing with the book, but I already know your answer." Sirius grumbled, glaring at his niece good-naturedly. The next bit Harry spoke in tandem with him: "Just some light reading."

"Well I wouldn't be able to test some of the more interesting bits in there anyway, as I haven't anywhere so protected to break into." Hermione sniffed at him, and then glanced curiously at where Fleur had disappeared from. "We were, erm, hoping that you could suggest a different book for Harry? He's worried about his OWLS."

"She's studying ahead for when she goes into Mastery after Hogwarts, Hermione." Sirius shrugged, and then pulled Harry further into the room, ruffling the boy's wild hair. "Harry shouldn't have much to worry about. He could easily get an E as he is. That's enough for my Advanced class."

"Harry, I'll swipe another book from him for you to read through after we've gone through the assigned text." Hermione rolled her eyes at her uncle. "Really, you _did_ give me a key to the trunk, you should expect me to go through your books by now."

"You think I'll do an E on my Defense?" Harry asked with palpable relief.

"If you pay attention for the rest of the year." Sirius admonished, ignoring Hermione's words. "Reading through the book and practicing outside of class too would help. You're top in practical application, Harry, but you are a bit weak in theory. Listen to her, she'll get you to an O." He ruffled the wild mop of hair again, still charmed with how Harry's wild hair so resembled his father's. "Observe some of the matches that the duelling club has. Ron would do well there, he's a strategist's mind, when he actually bothers to pay attention."

"Oh, Ron only cares about chess and creatures." Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes. "Would you mind us using your classroom on the weekends, for practice? Should I find somewhere else?"

"The spare classroom above that stubborn, curling stairwell would do better, in case others of my fifth years wish the room. Exam panic is beginning to set in." He looked pointedly at his godson, and Harry had the good sense to appear bashful. "See if you can convince Ronald to get a _little_ studying done?" Harry just laughed uncomfortably, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

* * *

Hermione tried not to twitch or glance up as the slightly floral scent of Ginny Weasley reached her. She’d noticed that the longer she stayed out of her fox form, the more that scents and sounds seemed to stand out - almost as if her fox was attempting to seek some sort of attention through her senses. It had lead to more than one internal debate on the possible duality between animal and human personalities as an animagus matured. Sirius did often refer to his dog as ‘Padfoot,’ as if it were its own mind and entity instead of an aspect of himself. She’d ask Professor McGonagall, if she weren’t hiding her status as an animagus until she graduated.

She’d been expecting Harry and Ron, or at least Harry, to be joining her, not the only Weasley daughter. The Twins had tipped her off to _avoid_ the Potions hallway that morning, and she’d learned rather early on to take them at their word in such cases. Figuring that the girl would speak up eventually, Hermione kept her focus on the notes that Harry had produced for them to study. If the scribbles that seemed to be Professor Snape’s teenage handwriting were any indication there was no question that the man truly was a Potions Master. They were absolutely brilliant. “Ignoring me then?”

Ginny’s voice was tight, and Hermione slowly glanced up at her from the notes. The careful corrections, and explanations behind their purpose, scribbled everywhere were beyond fascinating. If Snape weren’t so abhorrent most of the time, she’d want to take extra time studying with him. Sighing, and reluctantly putting them back into her bag, she smiled softly at her friend. “Why would I be ignoring you, Gin? You’re one of my best friends.” She shrugged, and glanced back down the hallway in search of Harry and Ron. “Hagrid let us out early, so class still doesn’t end for a few more moments. What are you doing out?”

“I skipped Potions. I don’t want to get caught up in whatever the twins are doing.” Ginny wrinkled her nose and shook her head, apparently warned that morning just as Hermione had been. “I saw someone very… interesting… carrying something even more… interesting… through the Commons this morning.”

"That's awfully specific there, Ginny. Could you be a bit more vague? Make things more challenging for me?" Hermione intoned sarcastically, glaring at her slightly in reproach for skipping. Ginerva glowered at her in response, huffed, and then looked around pointedly to assure that her brother and Harry weren't nearby yet.

"That French girl- Fleur?- had something tucked under her arm that I am _sure_ was your enchanted blanket." Ginny hissed, folding her arms and looking expectantly at her. "The exact blanket that you asked Harry to return to you over the Holiday."

"It's entirely possible that she was carrying something else, or her own blanket, Ginny." Hermione huffed, glaring back and trying not to growl. She definitely needed to spend some time as the fox, get those animal urges out of her system a bit. Ginny scoffed. "It's not as if I know her, Gin. We've never spoken, and we're certainly not friends. Why would she have something belonging to me?"

The redhead couldn't exactly deny that, though her gaze was still suspicious. "You watch her sometimes. Viktor's noticed too. Did you give it to her or something? It’s okay to make new friends, Hermione."

"Viktor?" Hermione prodded, driving Ginny to blush, and she smirked in victory. The redhead wouldn’t even meet her eyes. "Viktor who likes history and runes?"

"We talk. He's nice." She pouted, and Hermione smirked more. "He took me to Hogsmeade, along with Draco, before the end of Holiday." The blush was rather bright, and the girl shifted uncomfortably. "He's... nice. And he's noticed things too." Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes. "He said every time he would look at you during meals you'd either be arguing with the boys, or watching Fleur... you never looked back... so he's not, you know, trying to get your attention anymore. Draco still thinks he's odd for it."

"Slytherins go after what they want, it's what they do." Hermione ignored the second hint about her attention on Fleur, especially after her friend had demonstrated knowing the French girl's name. "He probably just doesn't understand why Viktor didn't. I never noticed him until you lot pointed it out anyway. You're getting along well it seems."

Ginny continued blushing, and sighed when she saw Harry rushing to meet up with them. "I'll not forget that blanket, Mione." It was mumbled as she pushed away to head to her own class. "Don't wait too long for my brother, he might try to get caught up in the twins' prank just to get out of class."

"He did say he'd catch up." Harry had obviously heard the second part, and waved idly as Ginny disappeared around a corner. "Prank? Is that why you wanted to meet over here?” He smiled brightly at her, reaching up to ruffle his own hair. “What are they doing?”

“They just said to avoid the hallway after lunch.” Hermione shrugged, securing her carry bag. “This is one of the hidden paths to the dungeons, and lets out in a hall closet near the Potions room. I hope you don’t have an upset stomach.”

Harry watched her in fascination, not protesting or commenting as she pulled him by an elbow around a corner, past an old suit of armor, and behind a dusty tapestry. The crevice they squeezed through was a bit of a tight fit, and Harry finally commented on it as a complaint about the tight squeeze. She ignored him, knowing that the path became wider a few feet in - she’d discovered it when exploring as the fox. Perhaps she should give it a name, as her Uncle had with his dog. Harry would have more to complain about at the drop off.

“Mione, where is this going? I can’t see a bloody thing.” Harry grumbled, sounding as if he were struggling with the last squeeze through. She again refrained from commenting, taking out a wand and feeling forward for the drop.

“ _Lumos_.” The word made Harry wince audibly, especially as the dusty crevice between halls was illuminated. She sometimes wondered which of them, really, had been the one to grow up in the Wizarding world. In front of her was a large hole, easily able to fit someone Professor Hagrid’s size, and she only smirked at him before stepping directly into it.

The rush of wind past her as she slipped into a winding slide, clutching firmly to her bag and wand. The first time she’d stumbled into it, as the fox, had been genuinely terrifying. The dark obscuring what had happened. This, her third time through, was actually exhilarating. She privately thought that Harry might wish to take this route each time now. Somewhere above, where he’d finally stepped in, Harry gave a loud whoop of excitement.

The slide was thankfully not too rough, and lacked most of the collected slick and dirt of most of the hidden paths of the castle. As it levelled, allowing time to slow down, she prepared to quickly move out of the way. Harry would probably need to be caught so that he didn’t end up crashing into the back of the closet. He was still giggling like a child when they’d finally exited, hair in a wilder array than usual. She carefully straightened out her robes and hair, elbowing him to calm down, before glancing around. Down _both_ ends of the hallway, she saw an entire rainforest worth of greenery.

Hermione raised both eyebrows, a little stunned at the twins’ prank. Poking gently at it with a single boot, she noted the slightly warm feeling of fresh magical transformation. Tentatively, she gave a flick of her wand. “ _Evanesco_ .” The beam of spell light struck the moss, which seemed to, instead of vanishing as it should have, _bubbled_ before bursting with more plant life. Hermione pushed Harry back as it bloomed into a collection of vines, flowers, and curling ferns. “Right then. Don’t try to Vanish it, Harry. They somehow managed to make the Charm self-correcting.” He giggled again, eyes wide as he took in the hallway, a few flecks of moss already starting to grow on the hem of their robes.

“I think we’ll end up covered in it if we walk through.” Harry offered, trying to scrape the moss from his robes with the edge of the door.

“ _Torgeo magna._ ” She snapped, flicking her wand at the greenery again. A stronger blast of light hit the greenery she’d just created, causing it to crumble into a fine dust for at least a meter. Grabbing his arm, she dragged him toward the Potions room, flicking out the briefly effective spell every meter or so. The moss and greenery slowly refilled the area she’d cleaned as they passed, leaving a slightly clearer, but still green path behind them. With a final flick at their robes when they had made it to the room, she hissed, “ _Torgeo. Scourgify._ ”

“We could have just skipped, like Ginny.” Harry whispered, following her to one of the desks and cauldrons that had been set out. “No one will get through there.”

“Vanishing is a fifth year Transfiguration spell. Haven’t you managed it yet, Harry?” Her eyebrow quirked, and at his blush she knew he hadn’t. “Anyone that sees that it makes things worse, well, they’ll move to trying charms. Both Torgeo and Scourgify work well enough, which is odd considering that Vanishing is fifth year, and both of those are third at worst.”

“You used a _Magna_ , Hermione.” He whispered back, unsure where Snape was. “I’ve never managed to cast Magna!”

"That's just practice and power, Harry. You'll have to practice for that one without me." She huffed, rolling her eyes. Shaking her head at that, Hermione reached into her bag to begin producing her Potions supplies and book, ready to attempt whatever concoction Snape would set them to, and hoping for another go at the Draught of Peace. “We’ll work with some Transfiguration in study too, Harry. You’ll need that to be an Auror.”

Snape burst into the room from his office on the other end, then, scowling at the presence of only two students. With an almost inaudible growl, he lurched in the direction of the hallway, scowling even further at the greenery. Perhaps it had grown worse since its creation. What had the twins managed to _do_ out there? “Do not move.” The drawled direction, condescending as per usual, was followed with Snape plowing into the not-quite-jungle of the hallway, beams of spell light flashing with nonverbal magic as he went.

"What've you decided you want to be, then?" Harry whispered at her, still eyeing the doorway where Snape had disappeared. "I mean, you're brilliant, whatever it is shouldn't be that difficult, but..." he trailed off, obviously not really knowing where the sentence was headed.

"I haven't fully decided yet." She shrugged, though internally that caused her to cringe a bit. Sometimes she considered becoming an Auror, like her uncle, and like Harry wanted. It would certainly be challenging enough, and put whatever skills she acquired to good use. There were plenty of Dark Wizards out there, as well, causing more than enough trouble for the Wizarding World. Nevertheless, that seemed confining, especially when given the Ministry's occasional prejudice or reluctance with common sense. Minister Fudge often seemed like a blatant coward and idiot whenever interviewed or seen; she wouldn't like someone of such appearance and caliber to be her superior. "I'd like to travel, and see the world... do something interesting and challenging. Ron's eldest brother, William, he's a cursebreaker for Gringotts, and that sounds rather exciting as well... though I'd much rather search for old magical lore and information than treasure." Harry stared at her incredulously. "Then there's other, less prominent jobs. I could always tour about gaining some experience before coming back here to teach, though I may attend Mastery schooling for spell creation."

"Nutter you are." Harry's words and smile were fond, and Hermione rolled her eyes in response, nudging him to direct his attention to Snape stalking back into the classroom. Most of the students for the class followed, though many had either bits of moss and flowers actually growing on their clothing, along with soot smudges on their faces, or the reddened-scrubbed look one got when one was Scourgified.


	8. Practice Makes Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The French "accent" still deserves apologies...
> 
> Also, as noted in chapter 7's edited notes, there were some very minor changes to the Ginny/Victor dynamic and how it is portrayed to reduce the creep factor and prepare for some side-plot later on.

Fleur breathed out slowly, pulling her hair back into a simple, but effective, tail at the base of her neck. It would be well out of her way, and she needn't anything impairing her vision for the club duels. That curly-haired girl had trailed along to the meeting with that be-spectacled boy she so often ate with. He'd been with the girl when she was returning the book to Professeur Black as well. She didn't know why, but the girl's presence, and that somewhat gangly boy next to her, was unnerving her before the Dueling Club meet. She'd overheard the one with glasses speaking to Longbottom about being there to 'observe technique' or something similar. The only reason she'd even bothered to pay attention was that it had been obvious from the start that Longbottom was one of the few with obvious, formal training in dueling... even if he did flourish a bit too much in his casting.

She trailed blue eyes slowly over to the curling mane of hair again, curious about the girl's presence at the club. Neither she, nor the boy, had attended before... and observations of technique was a rather flimsy excuse. Longbottom was still over there, attempting to chat nervously with them, and Fleur clenched her jaw as the overly-spirited, red-headed girl joined them too.  _ That _ one had stared at her far too often, especially over the past week, and it felt different than the in-thrall stares of shallow boys, or the scorned and fearful gaze of those who were prejudiced to creature-blood. She seemed suspicious and invasive with her gaze, and Fleur distinctly disliked it. Her jaw clenched, just slightly, as the redheaded girl greeted Longbottom with a pointed nudge and knowing grin, and began chatting with the other two. The indulgent smile and huff from that curly-haired girl only made her grip her wand all the tighter.

Fleur had joined this odd little club as an effort to challenge herself, and perhaps find something like mutual interest with some of these English students. Though she might not have truly befriended any of the club members, they at least had some measure of camaraderie. While she did not necessarily mind the presence of the curly haired girl - anyone who could puzzle through that torture of a book that had been handed to her by Professor Black was welcome - the other two were sources of baffling irritation to her.

"Staring, staring. You're not the only one that does, Mione." The redhead's words reached her, though in a sing-song, too-loud whisper, and Fleur realized that she'd wandered a bit closer. The be-spectacled boy wasn't paying them any mind, instead discussing something she didn't much care about with Longbottom, but the girl with the curly hair was obviously glowering at the redhead now. Good, she was not the only one who found the ginger girl an annoyance. "Are you going to tell me what's going on yet?"

"Ginny, you're being ridiculous. We're here for Harry to study techniques for dueling and battles." The girl's voice was hissed, but it made Fleur smirk just slightly, and turn so that she could no longer see them. Perhaps she would challenge Longbottom... show them some real technique and skill. "And I'd love to see what some of the more creative ones come up with. There are fascinating things in some of the books that Sirius keeps tucked away in his trunk and shelves. I found one on Medieval dueling and submission spells that looked... well perhaps a bit barbaric in the more advanced chapters... but held fascinating counter hexes and submission curses. I'd imagine that at least some of the counterspells are still in use in advanced dueling. I wonder what level of Protego the majority of the members are capable of..."

"Level... of Protego?" The redhead sounded confused and worried, and Fleur smirked as she stretched out her fingers for when she would duel, ignoring the boys that were beginning to enter the room. "There are different levels of  _ Protego _ ?"

"Of course. Protego is the most basic shield spell, used in duels, that we're taught. I've managed Protego Duo, but not anything more advanced. The other Protego spells are primarily for area or territory defense, as opposed to personal defense as needed in Duels and Battle. Sirius will probably work higher level personal shielding spells into the Advanced curriculum. Patronus can be used as a shield as well, though not against everything, and then there's deflection... ooh they're warming up!" The girl was, well, babbling, but it made Fleur smile softly to herself. "It doesn't look like many of them are formally trained."

"Oh, that's Cedric Diggory!" The redhead sounded excited, and it dropped the grin from Fleur's lips quickly. She stepped discreetly away, not really wishing to hear their babble change from spell discussion to boys. "You'd like him, he's brilliant!"

* * *

"Who's brilliant? Who would she like?" Harry popped up behind them, making Ginny twitch in surprise and glare at him. He was wearing a too-familiar pouting frown, and Hermione laughed a bit.

"The Hufflepuff boy that is walking onto the dueling strip." Hermione offered, gesturing and ignoring Ginny's frantic headshake and effort to not let Harry know. "He looks a little arrogant, Ginny."

"Yeah, Ginerva, he looks arrogant." Harry didn't sound entirely sure, though he was obviously unhappy. Hermione brushed a few curling strands out of her face, watching in surprise and fascination as, of all people, Fleur moved to the opponent's position. "Oh... well..."

The irritating grin on Ginny's face when she saw the blonde bow made Hermione hold back a growl. Fleur seemed to have had formal training though, from the style of her bow and flourish, and the stance she took upon rising. Brilliant as Cedric was supposed to be, he looked loose and casual instead of appearing to have had a background in it. Remembering how Fleur had actually managed to chase Peeves away, forcing the irritating poltergeist to dodge her through a wall… and the non-verbal magic that Fleur had displayed more than once in front of the fox… Hermione wondered just how well this Cedric character would fare with her.

The first few volleys looked tentative, a fippendo from Cedric and a jelly-fingers jinx in return from Fleur, and she assessed that they were probably gauging each other's defenses. The Hufflepuff looked surprised at the initial jinx sent at him, though, and Fleur seemed a bit on the angry side. The rest of the duel was... enlightening. Hermione attempted to explain it to Harry afterward, as the boy hadn't recognized several spells used, but she was still worried over what had the blonde so annoyed.

Cedric's robes were sporting several slashes, though he didn't seem to have actual injuries from that spell, but that was the least concern. In the time of Cedric dodging a particularly powerful Ventus, Fleur had also cast a quick succession of Glacius spells, first freezing one of his feet to the ground, and then his wand hand. Fleur had suffered from a few dueling sparks and blasts, but once she'd frozen his hand and foot, he'd been unable to defend against the three spells she'd cast at him, one non-verbally. Flippendo Tria, what Hermione could only assume was Expelliarmus, and then that same jelly-fingered jinx. Cedric had been blown across the room, hitting the wall and breaking the ice around his hand. His wand had then been cast aside by her second spell, and he'd been unable to grab for it again when she'd hit him with the third. It was impressive, but the cold look that Fleur had given him afterward was... intimidating.

No one challenged Fleur to a duel for the remainder of the club meeting, and Professor Flitwick had to cast a counter-hex to give the boy full use of his hand back. Harry was very impressed, as was Ginny, but Hermione had half of her attention on the huffy blonde for the remainder of the hour. It hadn't really seemed like Fleur to be so ruthless, even in a duel. She wasn't wild and shrieking, like she had when upset by Peeves, nor pouting or grumbling as she had on occasion when Hermione had found her as a fox. Something about Cedric had set the blonde off, and Hermione hadn't the first clue what it could be.

* * *

It had been two weeks of studying and practicing with Harry, attempting to get Ronald to work with them, and observing the thrice weekly meetings of the Dueling Club. It had become a habit for Harry to hover directly next to her throughout any of those meetings, and he trailed around with her even when they weren't off to study together. Honestly, she was starting to feel a little claustrophobic. It wasn't much more time than she'd spent with him in the past, but he hadn't been quite as... well... as needy then. Before he'd been just as interested in their adventure or whatever Ron was on about at the time, now he was almost always right at her elbow, asking about something completely senseless. It certainly didn't help that he'd practiced so very little prior to working with her, and she was well advanced beyond his level.

Luckily, there was to be a rather grueling Quidditch practice the next day, which would occupy all of the Weasleys and Harry, and she hadn't made any promises about coming to watch. Perhaps she would finally get some time to explore again as the fox, it had been itching under her skin to do so. In her one, brief discussion with Sirius over the matter, he'd said it was part of being a new animagus. Apparently the urge to be in the other form was stronger in the first few years, and tapered off nicely afterward as the body and mind settled more comfortably into its transient nature. He'd claimed that it could feel like they were two different personalities, but really it was just that one's baser instincts were stronger in animal form, and it was easy to associate those desires, when they cropped up, as the animal instead of simply a portion of yourself.

"Hermione." Her uncle called, and she paused in pulling her bag over her shoulder. If she could get Harry through another discussion on the theory behind the Switching Spell, and its use, she'd probably have a bit of extra time to review her notes from Arithmancy and Ancient Runes and start marking the areas she needed to study more. She was just lucky she was a visual learner... Harry was obviously best at kinetic study, and did best when  _ doing  _ instead of reading or listening. Harry eyed Sirius almost angrily as he and Ronald trudged out of the room, and she cautiously approached her uncle's desk when she noticed that. "You and Harry have been studying a lot for the OWLs?"

"Of course. He and Ronald really should have started at the beginning of term, but they're finally realizing it's necessary. Even some of the others in the house are beginning to crack down." She smiled proudly. "I've enough control over myself, and have had for a couple of months, to devote my attention to revision and review instead of the fox. I should have no problem with Charms or Transfiguration because of it at least."

"Has he been acting strangely? He seems to nearly be on top of you most of the time now." Sirius paused, leaning forward. "Does he know about your new abilities?"

"No, I doubt that." Hermione frowned in thought. "It really started after our first time observing the Dueling Club." She shrugged. "Ginny was trying to interest me in Cedric Diggory, and he got huffy about that. I think he's afraid I'll suddenly fancy the boy, he gets clingy when he thinks I have a crush. She was also teasing me about Fleur… I may have spent a bit of time around her as the fox, so sometimes I watch check to be sure she isn’t suspicious. I think Harry has it in his head that someone is going to steal me… again."

"He is still... er... unpleasant at the thought of some boy taking you out." Sirius laughed. "He's worse than the Weasleys about Ginny deciding it's time to date." She shrugged. It wasn't as if she planned to start snogging any of her school peers. Most of them were either idiots, or immature. "Has Ronald joined you at all? Or anyone else?"

"No... not really. We've gotten Ron once... but he's being his stubborn, moody self because he doesn't know what he wants to do with himself after Hogwarts." She sighed, brushing back her curly hair. "Two days ago he asked me if we couldn't just get married after school is done with and he'd support me 'and my brain' in whatever we did, like his mum with his dad." Hermione snorted, and Sirius broke out into laughter at the thought. "Harry punched him. They might have had a row if Ginny and the twins hadn't said he deserved it for a comment like that."

"He  _ punched _ him?" Sirius stopped laughing, shocked. "Actually punched him?"

"Yes, on his back. His mum would probably have had kittens." Hermione laughed lightly at the memory. "I don't even know what Mr. Potter would have done if he'd seen it. I spoke to him about it after Ron had gone to pout - I'd said that I would sooner shack up with the twins than marry Ronald, he didn't take it well - and I doubt he'll be throwing punches even at his friends again."

Sirius let out an annoyed huff of breath. She knew that she shouldn't have been so lighthearted about it, but the look that Ron had gotten when Harry had punched him right in his back, and Harry’s hand being sore the next day for his effort, were too amusing. "Hermione... I'll take him for a day, teach him the Patronus." He paused steepling his long, pale fingers, and frowned. "While I’m no more eager for you to develop romantic interests than he is, he gets far too moody when he thinks you are. He's becoming as clingy as he was before you two got to Hogwarts, and in a boy his age that's not healthy. If you do keep up with the study sessions, include some of the others. Force Ronald to attend, or drag along that Longbottom boy. He's amazing examples at home, but he flourishes too much in his casting... usually fizzles out or ends up rebounding on him. That should help, and Harry shouldn't be right over your shoulder all the time. Even Dumbledore's noticed his hovering this past week. He asked if you were betrothed now that you’re the official Heir of House Black.."

Hermione snorted at that thought and nodded, confused that Sirius obviously thought this more of a problem than it was. True the hovering could be annoying at times, but he was her best mate and oldest friend. He was the closest thing to a brother that she had, a  _ sibling _ . Either way, if it might help Harry to concentrate more on his study than being suddenly clingy she wouldn't mind.

* * *

Those mischievous, redheaded devils had been smirking in a way that she much preferred not to have witnessed. Something about it unnerved her, and she had a fleeting feeling that they had been responsible for the abundance of moss and greenery in the potions corridor not long ago. Attempting to Vanish the stuff had only made it grow denser, and though it was an impressive bit of charm work, it had made things quite difficult in the attendance of lessons. Nevertheless, despite what few rumors she'd heard of the pair being the best source of mischievous information and supplies, they hadn't had what she needed... beyond the name of who she might wish to speak with instead.

The first thing she noticed was the curly hair, and it brought a slight smile to her lips. As a bonus the seemingly ever-present shadow of the be-spectacled boy was absent. Every Dueling Club meeting, the pair had been there: the girl pointing things out to him or writing vigorous pages of notes on what she'd observed, the boy hovering nearby to study and assure that no one got too close to her. A few times one of the Ravenclaw boys had seemed particularly interested in greeting them, and inviting them to join as they were already there on such a regular basis, but the boy had glared him off. He hadn't seemed too fond of her either, though she'd rarely gotten close enough to even overhear their conversations. She'd simply been... fascinated... by the girl with the curly hair.

" _ Vous _ ... You are 'ermione Coulter, no?" She spoke gently, seeing how preoccupied with a book the girl seemed to be. It looked like Ancient Runes, of all things. Even with how cautiously she'd attempted to approach, the girl startled, nearly throwing the book as she jumped in place and whirled to stare wide-eyed at Fleur. It had been quite the rare occurrence for the girl to actually meet her gaze at close distance, and Fleur found herself captivated by oddly familiar eyes. " _ Je suis désolé _ . I 'ad not intended to startle you."

She was still staring at her with those huge, familiar eyes, and Fleur felt herself warm to the girl yet more. Unbidden, she stepped just a little closer, slightly invading the girl's personal space, and offered a smile that she was unaware of coming off as mischievous and predatory. "H-hi." The girl's voice came out in a nervous squeak, and Fleur's lips relaxed slightly into a gentler grin in reaction. "Er, that is, hello. Fleur, right?" Suddenly the girl ducked her head just slightly, a blush across her cheeks, and the angle made it harder to see her eyes. This was a pose she was a bit more familiar with, though perhaps not the blush, and she tried not to pout in disappointment. "Yes... I'm... well... hello. I'm Hermione, it's lovely to meet you."

Fleur looked down at the hand offered to her, surprised at the girl attempting to shake in greeting. The English were so strange sometimes. Smirking to herself, she gently gripped the girl's fingers, and brought the hand up to brush her lips gently over her knuckles. Not a real kiss, but such was rude at first meeting anyway. "My apologies again, 'ermione. I ‘ad not wished to frighten you." She let go of the girl's hand, which dropped, and took strange pleasure in the continued blush on her cheeks. "You seem nozing so offensive as much of un peers; it was not my intention." There was a slight huff and grumble, also sounding too familiar, and Fleur quirked an eyebrow at the girl. "I... must unfortunately be so rude as to ask un favor. I 'ave been told zat you are who I should speak with to find ample practise space? No?"

* * *

Hermione shuffled back a half step, just giving herself a little more room to breathe, as the blonde spoke to her. She'd never expected Fleur to approach her, and this behavior seemed so out of character. True, she was French, and they did seem to have customs significantly more  _ familiar _ with people than her native English peers, but Fleur always seemed so distant and aloof within a crowd of people. Then again, with the way that some of those boys stared, and the fuss that had been made of her blood, how could Hermione blame her. "Practice space?"

"Oui. It is not somezing zat the 'ead of 'ouse would entirely approve zat I wish to practise." Fleur gestured limply, as if such a thing were of little concern, and Hermione's eyebrows rose considerably. Idly, and nervously, she brushed a bit of her curly hair back, barely noticing the piercing blue eyes following the movement with sudden interest. "It... I am told zat you are the one most likely to know of hidden practise space?"

"I suppose that depends on who told you, and why you need it." Hermione took a deep breath, attempting to shore up her Gryffindor courage. She didn't know why the girl was making her nervous, probably just from being startled and the strange behavior toward her so far. If the girl had heard anything about her, she too would have known that she was favored by Professor McGonagall for her transfiguration skill, and did not like to cross the woman often. People knew that about her as often as they knew she was friends with the son of James Potter, or that she was apparently related to Sirius Black. Idly Hermione wondered how long rumors of her elevation in status with House Black would take to crop up.

"I 'ad asked the red'eaded twins first. Zey seemed the best to know ‘idden places." Fleur paused as if thinking something over. "At least of what I may track down, instead of being found at leisure. Zey said, 'owever, zat zey know better the paths away from the school, and small passages... not rooms." She huffed and gestured again. Fleur’s smirk grew again, the same one she'd had when she'd unexpectedly kissed Hermione's hand in greeting, and she tried not to blush at the appearance of it. "Zey said zat somewhere to practise spells, and per'aps the loud results of spells, would be somezing you know." Fleur tilted her head, as if trying to make eye contact again, and Hermione turned a bit, shuffling her books together, not bothering to mark where she'd stopped reading in her Runes book. "It is somezing the Defense Professeur 'as allowed me to test my skills against. 'e 'as left it to me to find an appropriate place to study."

That certainly sounded like Sirius... involving someone, probably too young to be doing the spells, in something beyond their year of study and then allowing them to practice on their own time instead of monitoring. Even she had been left to her trials alone when he was not strictly needed to change her back from an improper transformation. "Er... I might... I mean, if you were to tell me what you would need, exactly, or what you're practicing, I might be able to think of something suitable. A lot of the more obvious spare rooms are going to start being occupied by people studying for the OWLs and NEWTs. You're in a year past the first exams, so your classmates aren't going too bonkers... but the fifth years and seventh years are starting to panic."

"Ah. Oui, I 'ad noticed some odd shuffling about for some of the students." The blonde moved just a bit closer again, and Hermione gave up her hope of distance from the odd girl. "The professeur 'as provided a few special items zat will imitate curses and wards and the like. I am in 'ope to become a Cursebreaker and Wards specialist for the French Ministry. Zey are similar to your Aurors, but work more with objects and locations. 'e was quite 'elpful with materials..." The girl's pale skin flushed slightly, and Hermione tried not to gape. Not only did that sound fascinating and similar to some of her own leanings, but she hadn't even known that Sirius had those kinds of materials at the school with him. "It would be wise if no other students could interrupt and... if the imitation is activated, a leetle damage is unnoticeable?"

She was silent for a little while, thinking as she pulled her things together. "The shack is out, it would fall down around you with too bad a blast... I was almost knocked out by a bit of falling ceiling when practicing there last..." she twisted her lips and thought further, ignoring the fascinated expression on the blonde witch's face. "There's the Come and Go room, but Harry and the Weasleys know that one, and Filch would get suspicious if a student was always wandering up toward a deserted hallway... could do the duplicate arch for the Defense rooms... but they're awfully near the class and a loud blast would draw attention." She frowned and sighed, looking finally at Fleur again, though avoiding her eyes. "I suppose that hidden passage I found a few weeks ago could do, and it's somewhere you'd be expected to be passing through frequently. When did you need me to show you?"

Fleur was smirking at her again, and leaned forward to where she seemed too close. Hermione shifted a bit uncomfortably, trying not to fidget overmuch. "Your nose twitches when you think so carefully, 'ermione. It is adorable." Fleur actually lifted a hand and tapped her nose with a single finger, and Hermione went cross-eyed as she watched. "It is a day of no classes, is it not? I 'ave time whenever you think it best we go."

Hermione stepped away again, idly rubbing at the tip of her nose, and looked up at the common room clock. Her nose had only started twitching after becoming an animagus... and she had a feeling it would always be a tell. The passage, and the rather large dungeon room that it led to, that she had discovered from the dueling rooms had been a stroke of pure luck when Ginny had managed to distract Harry away on their second time observing. One of the decorative statues in the room, depicting a famous duelist, seemed just a bit twisted in place, and she'd found the hidden passage after everyone had left. It would be impossible to get to with the club actually in session, at least undetected, but Fleur was a  _ member _ of that club anyway. "Don't you have a meet for Dueling in a few moments?"

Glancing back at Fleur, she saw the smirk and posture slowly melting away, an annoyed look coming into those blue eyes and her expression becoming aloof and distracted. What had she done? "Oui, zat I do. I 'ad thought, 'owever, zis was more important zan attending a club." She sniffed slightly, dismissively, and folded her arms. "If you zink it should wait, I will attend the meeting anyway. Is my company so poor zat you must rush me away?"

"No... er... the club meeting will be in the way of the entrance we need." Hermione tilted her head in confusion. Fleur was acting so strangely. It was much easier to understand her behavior as a fox... strange how human interaction seemed so odd once one has experienced the simplicity of animal encounters with the same person. "If you want to catch the meeting, that's alright really, I wasn't going to observe today, as Harry has Quidditch practice and we're mostly there for him, but in the meantime I could nab us a bit of food for after your meeting. If you're to practice whatever this is after dueling, you'll need something to snack on." Hermione twisted her lips again, unaware that her nose was twitching again. "I could meet you as it ends... do you mind me observing your practice sometime though? It sounds fascinating." She looked down to assure she'd gotten all of her books and notes into her bag again, wondering what, exactly, Sirius had managed to provide for the girl's practice.

Fleur was silent, and it took a moment for Hermione to look up at the other girl. The soft smirk was back, but the blonde's eyes were wide and a little surprised. Apparently, whatever she'd seemed to do wrong had been fixed, though she still didn't understand that odd smile.


	9. An Uffish Approach

Though she seemed to be giving Hermione that too-pleased smirk as she sauntered away - yes, sauntered, Hermione didn't really understand that - Fleur had agreed to meet up at the end of the Dueling Club practice. The blonde had to fetch her supplies after all, and they couldn't access the hidden passage until the club had ended for the day. Briefly, Hermione considered hexing the twins, as they'd been the ones to send Fleur to her. She hadn't the first clue how to act around the other girl, especially with these strange behaviors that the Fleur hadn't displayed with others before. Hermione didn’t have the most discernible markings or tells, but her eyes were a dead giveaway should anyone compare them to the fox. Other than Sirius, Fleur was the only one that had been repeatedly close enough to her fox form to know her eyes well.

What had started out as an attempt at kindness for someone so far from home had quickly turned into... Hermione didn't know. She knew that she cared more for her time as the fox, with Fleur, than she'd expected to. She knew that she'd developed an interest and affection for the girl, one that she tried not to dwell on, and that Fleur was strangely attached to her furrier side. Now, added to the stress of her OWLs, added to Harry's increased clinginess, added to the risk of exposure of her latest skill, was that her time with Fleur as a fox was at risk. If she was found out by the girl, she knew that she would be shooed away, or worse yet hexed away, the next time the blonde saw the fox.

_ At least, though, I'll have a bit of time with her as a human, as confusing as her behavior is. _ Her thoughts were jumbled, but there wasn't much of an option for backing out now. She refused to seem completely rude to the girl, so she couldn't abandon Fleur to find her study space alone. She was also mortally curious about this practice that Sirius had set to her, and what she could learn. Perhaps, much though the thought of actual conversations and interaction was tempting, she could limit what contact she had with the French witch. She'd only agreed to show Fleur the study area, and asked to sit in once or twice... that wasn't condemning her to constant interaction or the exposure of her secrets.

Hermione's musings came to an abrupt halt and she sputtered, shocked, as one of the castle ghosts passed directly through her. She was usually good at dodging them, though she'd been too preoccupied to even notice Sir Nicholas this time. Hermione huffed and grumbled, attempting to shake off the weird feeling and wisps of ghostly essence that clung to her curly hair, and turned toward one of the passages she frequently used as a shortcut. Nicking a bit of food and drink from the kitchens wouldn't be difficult. The house elves there were always over-eager to help however they could, and she'd be able to attempt to clear her mind a little before meeting Fleur again. Perhaps she should fetch some of her own studying materials, as the more often she had to return to the dorms the more likely it was that she'd be caught by her friends. Much as she cared for them, she did want some private study time, or even some private moments away as the fox, if she could get it. Fleur probably wouldn't have minded the fox's company either, though disappearing as a human to reappear as the fox not much later would be tedious and suspicious.

The small bag of food she collected at the kitchens was more than enough, considering that it was intended mostly as a rejuvenating snack for practice and study. She decided against going back for her own books for study, much though she probably should have gotten them. If she had the opportunity to watch whatever Fleur would be trying then she wouldn't be worrying about her own studies. She arrived at the Dueling Club room a bit early, not really wanting to linger in the way of the house elves that ran the kitchen and risk irritating them into not helping again at a later point. Maybe she could get Kreacher to the castle, now that she was officially the heir.

The sight of Fleur watching the current duel taking place was almost amusing. The blonde was leaned against, of all things, the very statue that marked the entrance they'd be taking later. Her expression was one of annoyance and boredom, not all that unusual, and she idly tapped her wand against her arm as an obvious expression of impatience. Hermione distinctly remembered Harry doing that once in their second year, and setting his robes alight in a bit of unintentional magic. Fleur, of course, remained completely safe from wayward casting, and only arched an eyebrow at one of the spells cast by the duelists attempting to disarm each other. It was only a pair of second years, so the spells currently being cast were rather simple.

Hermione worked her way around the room carefully, quietly, and only nodded a few passive greetings to those who noticed her. Fleur must have seen her coming at some point, because when she'd finally made it to stand next to the other girl, that odd smirk had taken residence on the blonde's lips. Her eyes were still trained on the inexperienced duelists, but Hermione could tell that she looked significantly less irritated now. "How long have they been going?" It was a murmured question as she turned to watch the pair as well.

"Ten minutes now. They are at stalemate." Fleur murmured back, still smirking slightly, and gestured with her empty hand at one of the boys. "This one 'as a good shield and dodges well, but 'e cannot cast  _ Expelliarmus _ well enough to disarm the other." Hermione hummed agreement, wondering how much longer the club leader would let them go. Someone should really work with the boy if he was having such trouble with such a simple spell. "I 'ad not expected that you would be 'ere so quickly."

Hermione blushed and fidgeted slightly, glancing quickly at Fleur. The dueling club, while occasionally fascinating, wasn't all that big of a draw for her. She had other things to study, other books to interest her, and it was only when the more advanced students took to the dueling strip that she really learned anything while observing the club. Perhaps she would join the following year, though, to get some practice beyond whatever was happening in classes. "Did you duel today?" It was reaching for something to say, but the second years weren't nearly interesting enough to hold her attention.

Fleur was still smirking, and had turned to observe her instead. Hermione ducked her head slightly to assure her eyes were harder to see. "Non. I did not feel like it." The words were almost purred out, and Hermione flushed without knowing why. "I 'ave only attended so that I could meet you 'ere." She shifted just slightly closer. "Also, 'alf of the draw 'ere seems to be the fascination that you 'ave with the duels. I 'ave wondered, sometimes, what it is that you write down when 'ere with that  _ boy _ ."

Hermione didn't quite miss the inflection given when describing Harry, and shifted again as she wondered what he had done to cause the reaction in the girl. Then again, it might just be that Harry had been overprotective and over-clingy lately, and that was reflected when they were watching the club meetings. "Mostly notes on techniques and spells to either look up, or explain to Harry." Hermione mumbled, smiling as the club leader finally called an end to the exhausted second years' duel, announcing an early stop for the day. "For example, your wand control is excellent, but your technique is very aggressive when you do duel. Neville has good form and formal technique, but he flourishes his wand too much when casting... his aim is off, or it affects the potency or success of the spells."

Hermione shrugged as she trailed off, nodding at a few of the people that called out a parting to her as they left. She hadn't realized how popular she seemed to some of the attendees... then again, several of those who recognized her were the more intelligent Gryffindors or Ravenclaws, who she had offered study suggestions to before. When she turned to regard Fleur again, the last of the others leaving, the girl was still watching her with that same expression. Hermione just blushed and ducked her head away again.

* * *

Fleur watched in fascination as the younger witch turned away, the blush on her cheeks not quite hidden by the locks of curly hair. Of course she knew that her dueling could be considered aggressive, especially lately, but she'd won almost every match since the girl's start of watching the club. "Did you bring your supplies, or am I just showing you where the room is for practice?" The English girl's voice was curious, with an obvious hint of whatever nervousness Fleur had prompted in her.

She took a moment to analyze the odd pleasure she had at making the younger girl nervous, looking her over as she fidgeted with the bag that she'd shown up with. "I 'ave it against the wall." Fleur gestured, watching Hermione turn to see the small chest and leather carrying straps. There had been curious gazes at it when she'd come in with it, but no one had said anything, and Hermione had apparently not even noticed it. "Some of the things it 'as were covered in that book you 'ad to return to Professeur Black... would you like to see them when we 'ave come to this practice space of yours?"

The shorter girl could not hide the excitement or smile that the question prompted, and Fleur was greeted with another brief moment of eye contact. "Oh, that would be lovely. I'm very curious as to what he’s given you to practice and train with... his idea of what is appropriate for students of this school is sometimes very - erm - interesting. Different. Perhaps I should have brought a few minor regeneration potions, or Girding potion... some reviving potions maybe?" The girl was murmuring to herself and searching the bottom of her satchel for something, possibly the potions she was mentioning. It was almost endearing, if somewhat worrying. Either she was not believed to be competent enough to work with the training materials the Professeur had provided, or he was known for providing things that may be too advanced. "It shan't be something particularly harmful or deadly, I believe. He would insist on attending your practice if it were."

"Per'aps we shall see when we get there?" Fleur asked with a smirk, reaching forward idly to flick a curling lock of hair away. The light blush and startled expression was amusing enough that she was tempted to play further with the curling mane of hair. She moved to idly flick her wand at the trunk and supplies that she'd brought, letting it hover gently nearby as the English girl adjusted her bag and walked to the other side of the statue they'd been perched against. The slight twist given to the stone duelist's wand resulted in a faint gust of air. Then, the shorter girl beckoned her to walk into the wall with her. Fleur, bemused, watched as Hermione disappeared into the stonework as if it were no more solid than mist, and directed the trunk to follow her through. She had heard of the Hogwarts Train having a similar passage at it's London station, and wasn't quite sure what to expect on the other side. "Merde."

Fleur blinked rapidly and coughed at the sudden introduction of dust, cobwebs, and the musty scent of damp. The other girl had already cast  _ Lumos _ , leading forward and down a narrow stairwell, unbothered by the damp and decay. Had the steps been made of wood, instead of stone, Fleur would have feared rot and been reluctant to tread upon them. As it was, she still stepped gingerly, floating the trunk behind her, and tried to watch out for any areas slick with damp or rot. "If you're to be down here frequently, the stair can be  _ Scourgified  _ easily enough. I cleaned up the room of the accumulated debris when I found it, but I never bothered with the stair, honestly." Fleur hummed slightly, concentrating more on her foot placement. Her home school would never have passages in such conditions. It too might have hidden rooms and byways, she had found some few in her time there, but never in this state of disrepair. "Here we are."

Blue eyes glanced up, and widened. The room that the girl had brought her to was bigger than even the dueling room that they had just exited. Half of a slate-board remained on the wall, the other disappeared to an unknown location. Two tables were pushed off to the side, old and worn but clean. Despite a few cracks along the walls, and a bit of broken flooring, it was thoroughly clean and dry. How a fifth year student had managed so clean a job was surprising, if the place had been anything like the stairwell. Even her own parents often left such jobs to the house elves, but no house elf would have left the stairs as they were.

"I learned a few large scale cleaning spells from the Weasleys. The broken chairs and tables I simply banished to some of the other empty classrooms. I'm not really sure what this place was used for, but it's on the dungeon level. There's no storage closet for potions supplies, at least that I've found, so one would assume that it's not a hidden potions classroom." Hermione's words came out in a nervous rush, initially seeming as if she'd used Legilimency to follow what Fleur had been thinking. She turned to look at the ducked head of curling hair, smiling softly. "It should be secluded enough for any loud spells or reactions."

"It is perfect, 'ermione. Merci." She directed the trunk to one of the tables, smirking as the curiosity of the girl led her to follow it almost immediately. With a few taps of her wand, and a whispered spell, the carrying straps disengaged and the top popped open. Inside was a collection of smaller boxes, bags, and several books and pamphlets. The girl touched nothing, simply watching with bright, curious eyes as Fleur sorted through it all. Her gaze unwavering, it was easier to see those strangely familiar eyes, and she felt even further drawn to the girl. Slipping just a bit closer, she handed the curly haired girl one of the books, and pulled one of the bags into her hands. "'ere. I 'ave marked the first that is to be practised. Read the positioning to me?"

Hermione looked up at her, and then down at the book. Calmly, with a soft smile that Fleur felt was something she wished to see often, Hermione flipped to the page marked with a long strip of ribbon, scanning over it a few times before beginning to read off in an even voice where each object belonged.

* * *

"... Apparently it is then to be left overnight to gather the necessary strength for trials." Hermione offered, eyes still on the book as Fleur finished the list of necessary charms and spells to activate the first of her self study trials. The set up, at least, had not been particularly difficult- only tedious. Hermione hadn't actually been all that surprised that Fleur knew and could perform the necessary casting to activate the collection of trigger objects. As each melted into the ground, slowly, and a faint glow overtook the area she had set them in, Fleur turned and approached quietly. "This really is quite fascinating. Have you read fully through the text, or were you simply working through it a section at a time? One of the effects of this particular setup is actually a submission hex that I've read about. You'll need someone to release you from that should it activate..."

Her words trailed off and a bright blush overtook her face. She could feel the heat of it on her skin, and knew that she had to have a shocked, panicked look on her face. Hermione could even feel her nose twitch as she froze in place. Fleur's hand was in her hair again, idly playing with one of the curls, and she couldn't manage to speak or move away. She could barely manage to breathe, it had shocked her so. As her brain stuttered over what she'd been saying, trying to regain its track, or simply react to the invasion of her personal space, Fleur's voice purred out in its thick accent.

"'ermione, your voice is smooth when you are reading. It is rather soothing, no?" Hermione's eyes darted to Fleur's face, and saw that she was looking at the text spread in Hermione's hands, instead of directly at her. "This fascinates you, oui? S'il vous plaît, you must come down with me often. Read, et I will practise."

"I..." She stammered, still a little stunned at the fingers gently twirling a single lock of her hair. Why was Fleur playing with her hair? What had she just said? Fleur was playing with her hair. Even Harry and her uncle didn't play with her hair. Her own foster mother didn't play with her hair like this. What had she said? As quickly and absently as it had happened, Fleur's fingers left her hair, and she flipped the page in front of them, turning to the lengthy description of detection methods, and counterspells to what was supposed to be presented by that combination of artifacts and spells. "Read to you?"

"Oui. The testing your year dreads so is this year, no? It is as easy to study ‘ere as it is in the Library or the common area... or must you continue to spend all of your time 'elping that  _ boy _ with ‘is studies?" Hermione risked another glance at Fleur, who was still a bit too close and still seeming to look at the book instead of her, but a single blonde brow was arched high and the smug smirk was gone. Harry, and his Quidditch-famous father, apparently did not impress her. Swallowing and turning a bit more to keep her eyes better hidden, she thought over it.

True she had been spending a good deal of time away from her friends for the majority of this year. Initially it had been so that she could fully master her Animagus powers, and then to explore and enjoy them. They hadn't really even gone on any adventures or outings for fun, and she knew that they felt it a bit bitterly. Ron, however, was still being stubborn and lazy about his studies. Harry... well Harry was being clingy and moody.

"I... alright." The words slipped out of her lips without any real consent on the part of her mind, and she breathed out, blinking rapidly. Hadn't she determined not even an hour before that she would attempt to reduce the chances of Fleur discovering her secret? "How often do you intend to come down for practice? I can't imagine that your classes offer too much time for extra study... NEWT courses aren't known for being easy."

"Non, they are not  _ easy _ ... mais, they are not incredibly difficult. I 'ad 'oped to practise 'ere at least after the regular meetings of the club, after you said that the entrance was so close. This would assure I 'ave an excuse to be 'ere, no?" Fleur offered, stepping back and watching her. Hermione replaced the ribbon that had marked the necessary pages before, and closed the book, settling it into the chest where it had come from. Breathing deeply, she considered her own study schedule, and Harry's need for practice and study. It might be difficult to slip away from him, if they continued attending Dueling Club to watch together, but at this point he needed to study more on what he had already learned in school, and practice that. Perhaps she could convince him, and a few others, to have a single practice and study session a week... in the Come and Go room maybe, or the duplicate arch for the Defense rooms. "'ermione?"

"Y- yes. Yes, I think I can do that." Hermione nodded to herself, still picturing her school and study schedule. It would be easy enough for her to get about as the fox, if she could find enough places to transform and wasn't out past curfew. She ignored the look on the blonde's face as she watched her. Was her nose twitching again? She tried to concentrate on keeping it still as she thought, but the attempt left her a little cross-eyed, and thinking more on that she needed to work on her tells rather than her study plans. Fleur was smirking though, and walked over to close and seal the supply trunk, moving it, and the table, further away from the area she'd arranged her practice equipment in. "Thank-you... this should prove very informative."

Fleur's laugh was beautiful and unexpected. She didn't know how to react to it, really, or what she'd said that was so funny. Hermione stood there a little awkwardly, confused, as the blonde laughed sweetly, shaking her head. "Informative?" The thicker accent as her laughter subsided drew out the first syllable, and Hermione blushed. "Bon sang! Si charmante." Hermione's blush increased tenfold, and she was sure that she had to be bright enough to match her house colors at that point. Fleur hadn't any idea that she understood what was being said, but that didn't stop her reaction to it. "Oui, 'ermione, informative."

* * *

The latest Quidditch match had gone well, with Gryffindor beating out Ravenclaw by at least 75 points. The Weasleys and Harry were in a fine mood over it. Because of the match, the Dueling Club's meeting had been cancelled for the day, but Hermione did not once doubt that Fleur would be going to practice with her equipment. It had only been a week, but she had already learned that, no matter how playful or smug Fleur might seem when interacting with her now, she was very serious in her studies. It was rather refreshing, considering that she'd only barely managed to convince Harry, Neville, and one of the Hufflepuff boys to meet for once weekly study and practice sessions together. Harry had been disappointed that she wanted to drag others into their study time together, but he had been surprisingly cooperative once she'd mentioned that it would afford both of them more personal time if there was only the one set meeting each week. She doubted he'd realized that also meant she'd probably take that personal time away from everyone again.

Fleur slipped away from the crowd; Hermione only noticed because she could see the crush of Gryffindor colors part slightly to let someone blonde and graceful through. With Harry and Ron yelling and throwing quite the fuss with everyone else it wasn't difficult to shuffle away and be lost in the sea of peers either. As fun as it was to celebrate with them, she found herself unwilling to forgo her meeting with the French girl. There would always be other Quidditch matches, as there had been before, and should their House win the cup this year an even larger party would commence. She knew her friends would eventually miss her, probably when searching her out to share in more yelling and jovial celebration, but they'd probably assume she'd just gone up to her bed. Hermione eventually managed to squeeze through the portrait hole, and bid the Fat Lady a sympathetic glance for her obvious irritation at the common room's ruckus. Eventually the prefects would make them calm down.

When she'd finally caught up with Fleur, the girl was just passing through the hidden opening to the stairwell. Hermione had to slip through quickly before the wand turned itself back into the correct position, and she trotted quickly down the stairs after the other girl. Fleur had taken time, at some point, to spell the cobwebs and moss away, though she left it in some measure of disrepair. Hermione thought that, perhaps, the other girl had left it as such in case someone else happened upon the passage. As they reached the room, however, she looked about. A few of her books and bits of notes had accumulated on the table near Fleur's chest of practice supplies, and several candles had been accumulated along with the false magical windows that had previously lit the area. It was beginning to look more and more frequented, and personal to their study habits. A bag of crisps and roasted nuts was somewhere, she couldn't quite remember where it had gone, for a bit of snacking between Dueling Club and practices, and she usually had some fruit, bread, or boiled eggs secreted away from a previous meal or trip to the kitchens.

Fleur hadn't been having an easy time with this first trial of the items that Sirius had provided. From what Hermione could determine, it was minor, almost imperceptible, faltering in her movements or words when she attempted one of the detection spells or powders. Only once, at least, had one of the effects been set off. The sight of Fleur falling back from a temporary stunning hex activating had been rather frightening. She could tell that the French girl was frustrated with her lack of speedy progress, and that it would be a silent day. She'd encountered the blonde in such a mood more than once in the fur, but never so far as a human.

Wordlessly, Hermione levitated the spare table, more wobbly than its mate and thus less used, against the wall, and transfigured it with mumbled words and a bit of concentration. A nice, comfortable chaise lounger would provide a good reading space. Perhaps she would read aloud to Fleur again, instead of studying this time. She was unsure of if it would be truly welcome, in the other girl's mood, but she hadn't been ushered away yet.

* * *

Fleur looked in mild surprise at the hint of movement off to the side. She should not have been surprised, at this point, when Hermione demonstrated such casual mastery of her magic. The curly-haired witch was obviously beyond her year, if what she studied and showed understanding of was any hint. Nevertheless, as the table shifted and molded itself into a comfortable looking bit of furniture, she had to smirk to herself in mild surprise. On another person the show of power might have irritated her, but Hermione seemed to do so without any care that she was doing it. Even as she was mildly distracted from her study of the area she'd set her practice materials to, the English girl took a familiar book and settled onto the chair.

"... Understanding of the Jabberwall Detection Spell is a prerequisite to its use, for the understanding of what you use it against becomes unnecessary until its results have shown you such." Hermione's voice trailed out calmly, casually. Fleur glanced at the other girl, brow quirked, and grinned slightly at the annoyed expression that sentence gave her. "Hmph. Jabberwall is among a school of spells created by the Wizard Charles Dodgson combining charms and hexes, one of the few Wizards in history to successfully combine the two easily. Called Slithy Spells, one must be in a particular mindset for the use of these spells, lest they completely ignore the intent of their caster and instead make the expended magic dance about uselessly anywhere but where it is cast." There was another pause, and Fleur could tell that Hermione didn't quite understand, or like, the implications of the text. Slowly, she approached the calmly reading girl.

Hermione was curled comfortably against the back and side rest of the chaise lounge, feet tucked beneath her and shoes discarded on the ground. Her words came out, despite the girl's dislike of the content, in a smooth, even tone. She'd tamed her hair a bit more than usual for the Quidditch game, Fleur supposed, as it seemed slightly less bushy than she was used to. The curls still called her attention, and she found her gaze mostly drawn to them as she approached the reading girl.

"... nonsense words often incorporated into the casting of the spell, and occasionally a medium is used beyond the need of a wand. For the case of the Jabberwall Detection Spell, one must have what is defined as an Uffish state of mind. Be curious and open to answers, but aggressive in your desire. To use Slithy detection, one must know that the spells will take unusual routes, defined by the nature of the nonsense words used within them. Without these nonsense words, it would seem that the intention is too direct and the magic will fizzle out for lack of creativity." Fleur leaned casually against the side of the chaise, near where Hermione read, and let the words sink in. Her hand idly reached forward and plucked at one of the curls that had caught her attention the moment before, and she studied it as the book's passage was read for her. "... erm... Do... do not stand as one normally would when casting, nor move one's wand in such motions as would be common. Stand or crouch, pose oneself in an exaggerated fashion, preferably in a parody of confidence, and move your wand in a rough manner when casting. The Jabberwall Detection Spell slithers its magic between the patterns of magic cast for the wards it is used against, and is most effective against those with more sinister backlash. The nonsense of the Jabberwall Detection, through the improbability of innocent detection and exaggerated arrogant temper, will then leave signs for its caster to know what, exactly, it has found." Hermione huffed slightly to herself, seemingly ignoring the way that Fleur's fingers twirled into her hair. "Nonsense is right."

"Oui. It is supposed to be one of the more effective of the detection methods against wards, although it 'as only been in use since the 1800s." Fleur murmured, stroking her fingers through the curling locks more boldly. Hermione shivered and curled slightly more, her nose twitching yet again, but she didn't object or pull away. "So soft... it would seem that I cannot make my mind understand nonsense well enough that the spell works for me, 'owever."

Hermione murmured something before blinking rapidly and shivering again, pulling away just enough that Fleur's fingers were barely tangled at the ends of her hair, instead of petting through it as she had been. "Hmn, perhaps you're just taking it too seriously." She mumbled, and when Fleur gripped gently at the hair she still had contact with, and then let go again, the girl shivered once more. "Erm... I... I mean it's nonsense. Nonsense exactly. It said to pose and be... erm... uffish. Whatever exactly uffish is supposed to be. If you approach it too seriously, without it being an exaggerated parody of seriousness, maybe that's why it's not working?"

Fleur murmured softly, noting that she had come out of the comfortable curl she'd been in. Letting her fingers drag through those curls, and listening to her smooth voice read through the passage, had been inexplicably soothing. It was almost as wonderful as those moments when her little fox would find her, and allow her to pull it into her lap and pet it as she relaxed from the time of dealing with the fools that inhabited this place. Tentatively, she reached forward and played with a curl again. Hermione didn't flinch away or comment, slowly relaxing back into it after a moment of hesitation, as if she were unsure of the comfort she might have with it. "Oui... read it for me again, 'ermione? It is true that I must understand this spell to be able to use it. One cannot learn from un book and what it is telling us, without first knowing 'ow to open it and read."

Hermione hummed in tentative agreement, body still where she sat as Fleur's fingers gently played with her curls. Slowly, she began to read again, starting where she had before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me on my new author Twitter. Or just entertain me.  
> @ForgottenLocke


	10. To Gyre and Gimbal

Hermione sidled further into the library, cautiously avoiding the small clusters of panicking fifth and seventh years. Apparently the exams were starting to loom ominously to more than just Harry. While she felt that her potions and history studies could be improved, the other areas of study she would be testing in were well advanced enough that she felt confident at last. The techniques observed while helping Harry to ponder through dueling techniques and spells had bolstered enough of her knowledge of defence and hexes that she felt an eerie calm regarding that at least. Charms and transfiguration would prove no issue for the moment, she was studied far enough beyond the material covered that year, and reviewed in the years prior, that she had not needed to reference most things for her past two essays in the actual classes. Arithmancy and Runes were adequate, she felt, and while she was in the Library for other reasons, a few books on Runes would probably find her pile.

The set up spell, and the wards and various things activated within it, that Fleur had done was astounding. She felt that, with enough time, she could possibly modify it to encompass greater consequences than were pre-set for students. What had intrigued her most about it, however, had been the runes that glowed the last time Fleur had set something off accidentally. They were familiar, but not quite the same as those she had studied, as if someone had taken the same foundation and added different flourishes and details. She hoped that, with a few extra books to peruse, she could unlock the secret of how those runes were set into wand-cast spells, and how they had been modified. Had Fleur managed to perform the Jabberwall Detection properly, they might even know some of the spell names for her to look up.

“Dodgson…” Her fingers grazed one of the more recent history books, gathering that to check for references to the Wizard behind the detection spell. It probably wasn’t likely to have much on him, but better to check than not. Perhaps she would actually find the spellbooks he’d written, and their in-depth study of Slithy spells. “Not that the Ministry would like his books circulating. Sirius said he’d written for the Muggle world too, so they probably banned his spellbooks.” The grumble to herself was quiet, similar to one of her growls, and she decided to poke about the charms section instead. There weren’t many books written in the past few hundred years that didn’t in some way cover Grendlewald or the politics of the modern Ministry of Magic.

“Who?” The word startled her, and she nearly threw the book into the air, spinning to stare, wide-eyed, at Viktor, Ginny, and Draco. Ginny was smirking into her hand, Draco not even bothering to hide it, though Viktor at least looked contrite. “I am sorry. You are not angry?”

She noticed the remaining accent curling his words, and raised a brow in question, but didn’t deign to comment. “I’m fine, Viktor, just startled. Normally I can hear people coming.” She wondered why she hadn’t that time. “How long have you been there?”

“We are just now approaching.” He shrugged. “Ginny says that my accent is charming. Sometimes I still use it.” He bowed his head in thanks at her, smiling sheepishly. “Who is this man your Ministry dislikes? And his books?”

“Charles Dodgson.” Hermione offered, smirking back at Ginny, who had stopped smiling when Viktor had mentioned her comments. Hermione raised her eyebrows making her redheaded friend blush and look away, flattered and embarrassed that the Bulgarian had adjusted his speech for her. While she may have encouraged the embarrassment of her friend by prompting them to dance together, she was still a bit curious and wary about whatever friendship had resulted. “From what Professor Black tells me, I think he might actually be Lewis Carroll in the Muggle world, but I’m not quite sure yet. He wrote some interesting literature on combining charms and hexes that I’m trying to find.” She tilted her head, nose twitching, and observed the tall man-boy in front of her. “Have you heard of him?”

“I am afraid not.” His smile was easy, if apologetic, and she was grateful that he’d at least stopped blushing around her. “I think Lewis Carroll sounds familiar, but not Dodgson.”

“I’ve read Alice’s adventures.” Draco grumbled, trying to sound as if it weren’t that big of a deal. Hermione refrained from mentioning how odd it seemed that Draco, of all people, had read Muggle children’s books. “Didn’t know he was a Wizard.”

“Neither had I.” She admitted, brushing a thumb against the book cover in her hands. “If you notice his name in any of your studies, would you let me know? I’m trying to track down as much hints about it as I can.”

“‘course you are ‘Mione.” Ginny laughed, shaking her head. “While studying for your OWLS and helping Harry. Are you and your uncle moving here, so you can room in the Library instead?”

“You’re a laugh, Ginny.” Hermione rolled her eyes, smiling more because of the soft grin on Draco’s lips than anything else. “Trying to be sure Draco there doesn’t completely blow your grades out the water by studying with them now?”

“Hermione was saying that Draco is very intelligent.” Viktor offered, trying to catch up with the conversation. “Until this term I was not sure what this really meant. Professor McGonagall is telling me to be asking  _ you _ for help with my studies when I have problems.” He looked at her curiously, especially as a bright blush overtook her features and she tried to hide behind her hair. Most of it was back in a messy bun, negating her ability to hide, so she still saw his somewhat impressed expression. “I am two years older than you, yes?”

“I’ve done a bit of advanced study in Transfiguration.” Hermione mumbled, still blushing. Advanced, yes, but seventh year? Perhaps a few of their books, with her animagus studies… but McGonagall shouldn’t know that. Just how secret was her secret anyway? “You know, I’m a bit chilled. I think I’ll just nab a few more books and go read in the Commons.”

Viktor and Draco both watched her go silently, apparently confused, but Ginny did manage to call after her, which she pretended not to hear. “What a lovely opportunity to use a blanket then!” The shush from Madam Pince was a welcome interruption.

* * *

It was, oddly, the reminder of Lewis Carroll’s works that had done it for Hermione, no matter her worry over the Transfiguration professor finding her out. With winter easing into an early spring, and Harry busy with a Quidditch game that he didn’t know she was missing, Hermione had the time to sneak away to Hogsmeade, or at least the path off of Hogwarts grounds. Her fur was fluffed to its fullest, whatever type of fox she was did not seem to be designed for Scottish winters or winter-springs. Her paws were cold, and her nose numb, but this was really the only way that she could travel undetected.

Loyally waiting for her just outside of the village was Kreacher. She briefly wished that they’d arranged to meet at the Shrieking Shack, instead of outside, but she really didn’t trust its durability anymore. The wrinkled old elf stood stooped, but possibly warm wrapped in another blanket. In his arms were a number of books, paperback unlike so many wizarding books, and he wiggled a little as the fox approached.

“Hello miss.” The croaky voice was quiet enough to not attract any more notice than a lone, bundled up house elf would in the first place. She was cautious to sniff and listen for others, before finding a bit of a secluded spot to change back. “Kreacher dislikes this task, Miss.”

“I’m sorry, Kreacher.” She reached out and petted a gentle hand over his head in apology, watching a bashful smile pull at his droopy face. “You should have said. I could have asked Uncle Sirius to bring me to a Muggle town another weekend.”

“No, no Miss. Kreacher is proud to help Mistress Black.” He bobbed a little. “Kreacher dislikes this task, not helping you Miss. Kreacher could have been seen by a Muggle, Miss.”

“I won’t ask you to go into any Muggle homes again.” She promised. “It was only Ms. Coulter’s house, though. You’ve been there with me before.”

“This is true, Miss.” He drooped further, and Hermione picked up the books, trying not to reach for him again. The elf became uncomfortable when she offered too much soothing, though at least he wasn’t trying to punish himself. “The Muggle Woman did not see me, Miss.”

“You did very well, Kreacher. Thank you.” She smiled again and watched him brighten. “I’m going to see about getting Sirius to have Dumbledore approve your entry and exit of the grounds. That way you can meet us in there instead next time.”

“Oh no, Miss. Kreacher has much to do at your Manor. Kreacher is making the Manor fit for Miss this Summer.” The crooked, but happy smile she was favored with made Hermione blush. He was such a sweet elf, when he didn’t have to deal with her Uncle. Apparently the pair had never gotten along, even when Sirius was a boy. “Does Kreacher have Mistress Black’s permission to bring her things from the Muggle Woman’s house?”

“Please wait until my Uncle talks to her. I don’t want her to think she’s been robbed.” She flicked through a few pages of one of the books. Likely Ms. Coulter wouldn’t even notice her books by Lewis Carroll were missing. It was even possible she wouldn’t have noticed some of Hermione’s things missing from her room - how often would it be used during the school year after all? “He’ll send you an Owl, probably Jareth.”

“Yes miss.” He bobbed back and forth a few times, unsure of if he were dismissed, and only popped back out of sight with a loud, magical CRACK when she nodded that he could go. One day, she swore she’d have him acting like a person with full rights, instead of whatever her Uncle’s family had turned him into. The Hogwarts elves were not nearly so anxious about speaking up. Knowing that she should get back to the grounds before her absence was noted, Hermione quickly Banished the newly acquired books to the practice room that Fleur had been using. She’d study them there.

* * *

Fleur had not actually intended to attend the Quidditch match. Normally she disliked watching unless she were to acquire suitably high seats and bring her Omnioculars, but somehow she’d been swept up in the crowd going to and from the event. Much though their field seemed smaller than professionals, and their maneuvers perhaps not quite as advanced, she had to admit that these English witches and wizards were talented at the game. The irritating redheaded girl and that  _ boy _ that followed Hermione about were actually both very good, which was frustrating to say the least. She enjoyed watching the game, much to her surprise.

As she glanced around the commons, discreetly searching for the curly-haired girl, she noticed the increasing amounts of butterbeer and snacks. The Gryffindors were likely to be partying for a while, again. If not immediately, at some point soon, the girl would join her in the practice room. Or perhaps not. Perhaps Hermione would stay with them and partake of the loud exuberance. Fleur decided to not wait to find the girl to ask, instead avoiding the crowd to descend on her project once more. Perhaps she would feel more inclined to celebration if she succeeded at the Jabberwall spell.

Mumbling and the spark of a few spells greeted Fleur’s ears as she descended to her practice room, and she briefly thought that perhaps it had been found by the faculty. While Professeur Black had not expressly said so, it had been implied that the other members of the Hogwarts faculty may not be so willing to allow her to perform Mastery level independent study. What instead greeted her as she slowly peeked around the corner, wand ready, was Hermione surrounded by loose parchment, a few odd-looking books in her lap, and her hair bushier and curlier than Fleur had ever seen it. It was actually a little miraculous, the volume that the brown curls had managed.

A tap of the brunette’s wand to one of the parchments had it flying up into the air, beginning to speak as if it were a Howler, though much more calmly than any red-tinged Howler Fleur had ever seen. “Twas brillig, and the slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wabe. All mimsy were the borogoves, and the mome raths outgrabe…”

The parchment was weaving through the air as it spoke in a poetic cadence, some of the words sparking Fleur’s interest immediately. Jabberwock? As in the spell she was having such trouble with? Hermione tapped the speaking parchment after a line, then twice again.

“So rested he by the Tumtum Tree and stood a while in thought. And as in uffish thought he stood…” Tap. Tap-tap. “And as in uffish thought he stood…”

“Merde. What are you doing, ‘ermione?” Fleur asked, between the next set of taps. Hermione looked over her shoulder wand still raised, as the parchment slowly floated back to the ground. Fleur noticed that the girl was well out of reach of whatever effects may occur from the setup. Her overly-bushy hair was actually charming, if a little silly. How had it gotten like that?

“Hullo!” Blushing, the English girl stood, shuffling a few parchments and reaching up a hand to pat down a bit of her hair, looking further alarmed as she realized just how unruly it had gotten. “I’m sorry. Sorry. Erm, I was trying to help out, really.” Breathing in deeply, she gestured with her empty hand at the parchment that had been so recently  _ reading _ to her. “It’s a variation on the Howler charm. I use it on some of my notes.”

“What was eet saying?” Fleur came closer, noting the odd lack of hard binding on the small books that Hermione had with her. They looked like Muggle books.

“Charles Dodgson, the wizard who created the spell you’re using,” Hermione carefully put away her wand, shuffling the papers and parchment again. She appeared as nervous as the first time Fleur had approached her. “He wrote some Muggle books… for children really. In them, though, seem to be hints, or at least references, to the Slithy spells he created. The Jabberwocky poem, what the notes were reciting, has several references to the spell. Or the other way around, I’m not sure.”

Fleur bent to pick up one of the other bits of spare parchment that Hermione had been scribbling on. The notes on lyrical alignment of the poem, word references, and even theories on nonsense word meanings, all looked brilliant. “This is very well done, ‘ermione. I do not know what to say.” A pretty blush colored the girl’s cheeks, and Fleur lifted a nervously fidgeting hand to kiss it in thanks. “Merci.”

“Right… right…” Hermione snatched the paper back and began rambling, offering the book instead and mumbling about the theory she’d created about the poem itself. “I think it was, well, I think he was actually talking about the last Triwizard Tournament. It was an old tradition between the three biggest wizarding schools in Europe. The last time it was held, the Hogwarts Champion was a Hufflepuff.” From somewhere Hermione drew out another wrinkled bit of parchment, this one apparently loaded with modern history information. Fleur looked over it in amused confusion as Hermione began pacing. The blonde sat on the comfortable lounger that had remained as part of their setup since Hermione’s creation of it. “His first task of the tournament was a dragon. If you look at the sketches in the book relating to the poem, what I’m guessing are the ‘toves’ appear to be badgers of some sort. The Jabberwocky itself actually looks like a very poorly drawn Swedish Short Snout.”

Hermione had been pacing and gesturing with the notes, primarily at the book that Fleur held open in her lap. As Fleur peered closely, she noticed that it did seem to be a children’s book, with pictures that did not move, or even wink, at the reader. The images did at least depict something like a badger, though it appeared much closer to some of the odd creatures that she’d expect to be of the magical world instead of a Muggle creation. As she flipped another page, looking for this depiction of whatever a Jabberwocky was supposed to be, Hermione sat abruptly next to her, quickly finding and pointing out the page for her.

* * *

She swallowed hard, eyes widening in a slow, increasing panic. She’d practically fallen on top of Fleur in an attempt to show what, exactly, she was talking about. They were pressed against each other all along one side, with Fleur’s stiff surprise beginning to ease only slightly. Hermione’s nose twitched, and she reached the hand that she’d flipped through the book with up to try to tame her hair again. She’d been down in the musty dungeon room, scattering notes and reading, for most of the Quidditch game, and apparently the serum had not been able to stand up to such conditions. She didn’t doubt that her hair was probably tickling the poor French girl, who had just been assaulted by her close proximity.

“This does seem that it may be a Short Snout, oui.” Fleur finally broke the sudden, awkward silence. “Do you believe this Jabberwocky thing shall ‘elp me with the spell?”

“Er, yeah.” Hermione swallowed hard again, slowly trying to lean away and make it not quite as awkward. The slow movement only seemed to make it more obvious. “Er… sorry. I didn’t mean to, well, nearly sit on you.”

“Non. I did not mind.” Fleur smiled at her, barely visible with Hermione trying so hard to avoid her eyes. “It is not as if you are offensive to the nose, oui?”

The gentle joke made Hermione blush further. “I just didn’t mean to get that close.” She tried to offer a smile of apology, carefully not meeting the French girl’s eyes.

“Oh, so you think that  _ I _ am the one ‘oo is offensive.” Fleur accused playfully, still smirking at her.

“No!” Hermione looked up suddenly in objection, only belatedly realizing the other girl was playing. Rolling her eyes, she turned away in a mock huff for the blonde being difficult about her apology. “I just didn’t mean to invade your space. Next time maybe I won’t apologize.”

“I would not mind this.” Fleur shrugged, leaning back and turning her attention to the neatly arranged notes and book. “Sometimes it is nice to be close, no?”

Hermione was silent, just watching her as she read over the notes and the full poem. Finally, she sighed again and said, quietly, “Well, yes, it was a bit nice. I am sorry though.”

“Non. It is nothing to worry over.” Fleur reached out and pulled Hermione close again, though not quite as close as they’d been so accidentally. “This ‘ere. What do you think it means, this word Uffish? I ‘ad not thought that it was a real word.”

Blushing fit to burst, but unwilling to pull away when Fleur was actually being sweet, despite her teasing, Hermione gestured at the dragon again. If she’d managed to make her point in the first place, Fleur would already know. “Well how do  _ you _ think you should face a dragon? I think it might be something to do with confidence or without fear. If these Slithy spells are supposed to be an exaggeration, without so much seriousness… perhaps it is even with arrogance and contempt for it challenging  _ you _ .”

Fleur chuckled lowly, bringing another unbidden blush to Hermione’s face, as she considered it. Slowly, almost absently, a hand reached up to play with her unruly curls. At this rate, Hermione might never find a way to stop blushing entirely.

* * *

Hermione looked about at the small collection of students as they shuffled through the steps of practice and study. Neville and Harry were huddled off to one side, discussing Herbology, while she observed Ernie Macmillan settling into a bit of practical study with their latest additions, a pair of Ravenclaws and one of the Hufflepuff boys. With time before the OWLs growing ever shorter, it seemed that the study group she'd arranged with Harry had grown more popular. She felt as much like one of the professors as she did like a student studying for important exams. With more than one of them she'd had to help with Transfiguration, and it seemed that Ernie was the only one mostly proficient in the majority of what they were working on. The two Ravenclaws seemed to be catching on rather quickly, though, and she suspected their biggest problem was going to be wandwork. Even Harry seemed to be doing well with the variety of people to practice with, and she just wished that Ron would take up with the group as well.

"Ah. You are 'ere." The words startled her a bit, and Hermione turned to stare at Fleur's unexpected entrance to the study group. "I 'ad seen the  _ boy _ shuffle through this arch, et je me rappelais: you mentioned un arch when thinking of un place for my practise." Hermione blushed a bit and ducked her head, looking again at the group of students. "This is your leetle study group, oui? Why do you not practise with them?" Fleur didn't quite grip into her curls again, as Hermione was quickly becoming familiar with. It wasn't so much that she minded Fleur playing with her hair... it was always just so unexpected when it came. The blonde did, though, gently flick a few curls further out of Hermione's face, standing too close and speaking in a low, purring voice. Hermione convinced herself it was because the older girl didn't wish to disturb the others' practice.

"I... I'm just observing for now." She offered, suppressing a slight shiver. "My weaker areas seem to be potions and history, and we're not working on that today. I can expect at least an E on them, but I want to sweep my exams with all Outstandings." She shivered again as Fleur's fingers tangled in her hair more tightly for a brief moment, and then disappeared altogether. "You keep doing that..."

"Oui... I like your 'air. It is soft. J'aime vos boucles." Fleur murmured, flicking a curl idly again. "Does this bozer you truly? You ‘ad not seemed to mind before."

"No... no... I mean... it's just..." Hermione stammered, flustered, and stared unseeingly at where Harry was trying to help Neville with his wand work. "It's just hair, Fleur. I don't mind, I guess... but... what I mean..." She huffed, clenched her eyes closed, and breathed deeply. Beside her she could tell that Fleur was amused, and thought she heard one of the girl's low chuckles. "It's just a little distracting sometimes."

"Oui... but you are not doing anything important now... yes?" Fleur was smirking. Hermione just  _ knew _ that Fleur was smirking. Letting out another slow breath, she peeked an eye open and saw that she was correct. "I 'ave good news, 'ermione." Biting her lip, Hermione opened her eyes fully and turned to look more surely at Fleur. As Fleur stared at her curiously, she pinked with another blush and ducked her face just slightly. "I have done the Jabberwall Detection Spell correctly. There seems a collection of wards et spells to activate the hexes... but I know them now. It is fascinating, this detection spell, no? Merci, the Muggle books et notes you made were useful."

"That's wonderful Fleur!" Hermione smiled brightly and impulsively hugged the taller girl, blushing as soon as her arms had wrapped around her and wondering what had driven her to the action. Fleur's hands had just raised to return it when Hermione shifted backward, easing away quickly so as not to embarrass herself further.

"If this is my prize for doing well, then I shall 'ave to succeed more often." Fleur purred at her with a smirk, and Hermione turned bright red, spinning to face the rest of the students again. Several had begun to watch them at some point, probably noticing Fleur's presence, and she could see the increasingly glazed eyes of the new Hufflepuff boy. "Mmn... we seem the center of attention. Do they have nothing to practise?" The slight edge in Fleur's voice was strange. Hermione hadn't really heard it since the last time she'd been in the fur around the girl. It was the harder, irritated tone that Hermione had associated with the girl's frustrations with their school and the students within it. It saddened her to hear it again. Fleur hadn't even been so closed off when most frustrated during her practices.

She turned to glare out at the staring boys of their small study group. The angry glower managed to scare Neville's curious gaze away, and resulted in at least Harry looking at her instead of Fleur. The others were too distracted by Fleur's presence to really even notice her glaring, though, and Hermione set her jaw. Beside her, Fleur mentioned something about studying together later.

"My 'ermione, à bientôt." The murmured words still held a slight edge to them, and Hermione turned abruptly to catch Fleur's strained smile, and then exit. She breathed deeply for a moment, attempting to control her apparent irrational anger at the rudeness of the boys. Even that Ravenclaw girl had been staring. Shaking off the desire to lecture every one of them on proper social etiquette, she turned again to see most of them already back to pretending to study or discuss work. Not-so-discreet glances were still being shot her way, likely over-curious students wondering why Fleur had come to find her, but only Ernie was still watching blatantly, even as he explained something to the newest members.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I completely admit that the Jabberwocky/HP connection was not my idea first. I don't remember when i first encountered it, but i adored the idea and the comparisons drawn. I wish I could remember who raised that particular point, so that I could credit them for it.
> 
> ((My Twitter handle has now been repaired to @ForgottenLocke as it previously had a random string of numbers in it))


	11. Childhood Adventure

Fleur looked quietly out across the meager view from the willow’s landing. Though for the most part she did not need her new blanket around the castle anymore, the landing still managed to retain its winter chill. She had not frequented the willow much since the start of her study, and her brief time with the English witch, but found the respite of the quiet necessary. While Hermione was perhaps oddly shy at times, blushing and ducking away like a timid thing, she had never seemed to behave strangely with her due to her blood. After years of exposure to it, and others like her, her peers at Beauxbatons had become inured to her presence. The occasional reminder from the vapid fools of this school was never a comfortable one.

She wasn’t expecting any of the other exchange students from her school to arrive at any point, with most of them visiting Hogsmeade, but the scrape and patter of footsteps alerted her to the presence of  _ someone _ approaching at least. Turning her head a bit, ready to hex away anyone daring to interrupt her contemplation, Fleur only found the furry head of a little fox peering from the entrance back into the castle. She could have sworn that the sounds had indicated something larger, possibly human, approaching, but the fox at least would be welcome. Smiling softly, sadly, she turned and strolled closer to the tree, folding herself down with the blanket still wrapped around her. The fox trotted boldly closer, peering at her in contemplation until she made room in the blanket by her leg for the little creature to settle in.

Odd how the little fox always seemed to know when she had a need to be sought out and comforted. Leaning back against the roots of the willow, Fleur gave a soft sigh, cupping the furry body against her leg. Both large ears flickered toward her, and the fox turned to peer curiously at her again. Fleur found herself caught up in familiar eyes. How many times had the little creature attempted to communicate with her through look alone? Frowning just slightly, wondering if it was even  _ possible _ , Fleur tilted her head. “You… little one…” the words slowly left her lips, the fox’s ears twitching as it continued to calmly watch her. Fleur paused, not sure if she wanted to know, or if the thought was crazy, and dismissed what she wanted to ask initially. Instead, “this blanket was a gift from you at Christmas, oui?”

A slow deliberate nod was given, before the little creature yawned obviously and settled in for a nap against her. Fleur quietly contemplated what, exactly, that could mean. A gift… an  _ enchanted _ gift, from what only looked to be an odd little fox. While she had managed to find vaguely similar warming charms to place over her uniform robes, the array of enchantments and complexity of keeping them woven into place on the blanket, had eluded her for the most part. There was no possible way that a fox, even one so intelligent as the one laying against her, could do that alone. Perhaps a witch or wizard, but even so that person would have to be particularly talented and powerful. Perhaps so talented and intelligent as to be able to become an animagus?

Fleur stroked a thumb and fingers gently over the little fox, at first unsure of how she felt about that thought. A part of her wished to be upset at the intrusion, if the fox truly was an animagus. Particularly if it was the girl that was quickly becoming a friend and infatuation… but truly, what intrusion had there been? Yes, it had gained her trust in an oddly fast period of time, but if she were honest that probably had more to do with her being lonely at this school, than any real actions on the fox’s part. True, even, that the little creature had helped her greatly over time. This Lallac Willow had become her refuge, and the fuzzy little body a great source of comfort. Even when in her room with her, the little thing had been more respectful than any fuzzy creature had a right to be.

And if it were Hermione… if she really was an animagus… could Fleur be upset?

* * *

Hermione grumbled something between a growl and a purr as she woke. She hadn’t exactly realized how tired she still was from the extra studying and work that she’d been doing. Honestly, she hadn’t even intended to fall asleep on Fleur, not knowing what exactly the blonde needed as comfort after the rudeness of her peers. Shaking her head slightly, happy to note that she was still in the fur, she peered around to gauge her surroundings. Fleur had carried her back inside and tucked her into an out of the way alcove, where it was warm enough, but no one was likely to see or bother her. Odd that the girl hadn’t brought her to the Commons, and was already gone. Perhaps she had slept too deeply for Fleur to wake her easily before leaving - she’d been careful, more than once, to make sure that Hermione hadn’t woken when sleeping as the fox.

Stretching, and catching an idea of where in the castle she was, Hermione shifted quickly back to human. There was no Dueling Club meeting that day, and Harry would have been satisfied enough with the study and work from the previous day’s meeting. He was finally beginning to tire of her relentless drive to study. Perhaps Fleur had improved in mood enough to go down to the practice room. With an ear and eye out for anyone else passing through the hall, she quickly moved toward the secret entrance she needed.

Finding Fleur down in the practice room was fortunate, though Hermione tried not to dwell too long on why she was so eager to see her erstwhile friend. They were that, at least. Friends. Somehow Fleur had decided to be her friend, and she found that it was quickly becoming very important to her. “Hullo Fleur.” Her words were soft and quiet, smile gentle, as she descended to observe the blonde cautiously contemplating the next step in the project. “I’m surprised you’re not in Hogsmeade with your friends, celebrating your success!”

“Non.” Fleur sounded distracted, and off, startling the brunette. Perhaps she should have tried harder to stay awake as the fox. Any comfort she could offer as a human would be awkward and out of place. “They do not know of this project. It is something they would not understand… this wish to advance.” An odd, but still genuine, smile was offered, and Hermione tried to smile back. “I ‘ad not expected that you would ‘ug me eizer. It was magnifique, enough celebration.”

Hermione blushed again, and fidgeted in place. Sighing, she approached slowly and cautiously, under the watchful and confused eye of the blonde. After another moment of hesitation, shifting in deliberation, she awkwardly hugged Fleur again. It was stiff, and oddly purposeful, but when Fleur responded with arms around her shoulders and a hand in her hair, she smiled bashfully into the other girl’s shoulder. “Congratulations, Fleur. You did excellently. I know you’ll crack the next stage too.”

“Oui. Merci beaucoup, ‘ermione.” Fleur mumbled at her, apparently flattered and startled by the second hug. After a moment, Hermione moved back, and went to sit on the chaise lounge instead, summoning a few of the books she’d stashed there to her. “It deserved two ‘ugs. This is lovely. What shall I receive for completing this ‘ole project, then?”

“Fleur,” Hermione peeked up over the edge of the book, smiling as Fleur looked back at her from halfway across the room and offered an amused, arrogant expression. “You succeeded in a  _ Mastery Level _ spell for a project Professor Black should never have given you. Of course you deserved two hugs.” She blushed and hid behind her book again, trying not to turn too red. “If you complete it I’ll treat you to dinner in Hogsmeade. That’s the least I could do, if you manage the whole thing.”

“Consider that a promise, ‘ermione.” Fleur laughed, and Hermione blushed further.

_ Oh Merlin. _ She glanced over the book again as Fleur casually pulled her blonde hair back into a tail, smiling freely now.  _ I think I have a crush on her. _

* * *

Fleur settled onto the cushion near the other girl, contemplating her carefully. What little she’d seen of the brunette’s eyes since coming down to the practice room seemed to support her theory. At first she didn’t know how to act, or what to say. Seeing the continued light blush on Hermione’s cheeks, and remembering how insistently the fox had chosen its resting place against her leg, Fleur sidled just slightly closer. The blush increased, and she tried not to laugh.

“‘Ermione.” the brunette didn’t fully look up, though her nose twitched. “We are friends, no?”

“Er… yes. I suppose you could say we’re friends.” Hermione hedged, thumb playing with the corner of her book. What exactly was the brunette trying so hard to read, anyway? “We do spend a good bit of time together… a portion of that with your hand invading my hair.”

“Oui. J'aime vos boucles.” Fleur admitted without embarrassment. She did not have many friends with such curls, and few of them would let her play with their hair. It was so soft, and Hermione became so easily flustered with it too. How could she resist? It was as soft as petting the little fox. “Et you ‘ave said that you do not mind.” Hermione laughed lightly and rolled her eyes as Fleur reached forward and flicked a few curling strands as demonstration. “So… we are friends. Tell me something more about you, so that we may know each other better.”

Fleur waited quietly, wondering, hoping, but still fairly certain that the other girl would not reveal such a large secret. Hermione seemed to become lost in thought for a moment, and Fleur’s hand slipped more fully into her hair. “My Muggle name is Hermione Coulter, but legally, according to the English Ministry of Magic, I am now considered to be Hermione Coulter Black, heir of the House of Black. Sirius, the Defense professor that gave you this damnable project, is my uncle and the current lord of the house.”

Fleur blinked rapidly, hand still buried in Hermione’s curls. That had been… certainly more than she’d expected to find out, though not the information she’d hoped for. After a moment, she smiled softly to herself, realizing what Hermione had really just told her. “Professeur Black is your uncle?” She chuckled, tucking long legs up under her and getting more comfortable. “That must ‘ave been an interesting childhood.”

“Interesting is an understatement.” Hermione huffed, closing the book and setting it aside for a moment. Fleur absently noticed that it said something about Celtic Runes. “I was raised by Muggles in fosterage. I didn’t even know about magic, or meet him, until I was eight. He made Harry meet me first, and then introduced himself once I stopped suspecting that he was some kind of child abductor.”

“Child abductor?” Fleur laughed again, and was happy to see Hermione’s smile in return. “This story… it is one I must ‘ear. S'il vous plaît.” It took little encouragement for Hermione to spin a brief summary of how she had finally met her uncle, after Harry had apparently adopted her as his best friend. While Fleur still did not like the clingy, pouting boy, the comfort in Hermione’s voice when she spoke of how he had helped her understand what her magic was… at least the child had done rightly with the girl.

“This is lovely. I shall think of this every time I see Professeur Black now.” Fleur chuckled again, shaking her head. A scared and excited Professor Black, trying to stare down an eight-year-old girl who had just threatened to kick him and scream for the Police if he tried to take her… and then lecturing him on proper etiquette when attempting to meet new family members. She would have to tell her sister this story; Gabrielle would not be able to help laughing. “This reminds me of the time… I was un bebe. Maybe seven? Oui, seven. Ma grand- mère ‘ad just told me that I ‘ave the Veela dans mon sang… er… in my blood? That I would ‘ave something called Thrall, et that I could not control it, as the blood is much diluted. I told ‘er that this does not matter as,” Fleur giggled lightly, “as I would be a unicorn breeder so the men would not be around anyway.” Hermione laughed as well. “I did not know, évidemment, that this was not possible. She listened to me talk of the unicorn ranch et wine vineyard I insisted I would ‘ave, for un hour.”

* * *

Hermione didn’t quite know how it happened, but somehow she and Fleur ended up practically curled together on the lounger, Fleur consistently playing with her increasingly frizzier hair. “... non, non. You cannot possibly beat this. In second year, I ‘ad been chosen for the honor of aiding the ‘eadmistress, Madame Maxime, in ‘er office. When she was tending to the proffeseur of Herbology, I some’ow spilled the ‘ole of un potion onto the chair at ‘er desk. It was the most ugly thing- bright pink et gold, with flowers et birds carved everywhere. It was ruined, the pink cushions melted, the gold tarnished. I ‘id in the Library for two days before they found me. She was not upset, except that I had run for so long. The chair was un gift from the same professeur, et she could not be rid of it without offense.”

“Good, but not troll good.” Hermione acknowledged, smirking and eying the other girl coyly. Fleur only arched an elegant, blonde eyebrow at her. Laughing and huffing another breath, she settled further into the almost-cuddle they were doing. “In first year, Harry and I had made friends with Ronald… the redheaded boy that you’ve seen sometimes?”

“Non. I ‘ave seen the redheaded girl; she smiles strangely and stares.” Fleur shook her head, twirling her fingers into Hermione’s hair. It felt lovely, but she privately thought that perhaps she enjoyed it a bit too much. She’d only just realized she had a crush on the blonde, and really this was probably taking advantage. Hermione couldn’t quite bring herself to pull away though.

“That’s Ginny, his sister. No, Ron’s being a bit of a stubborn prat right now. He doesn’t want to study for the exams, and keeps hiding away from us.” Hermione sighed, and shivered as Fleur’s hand moved to rub gently at her neck. “In first year he was always eager to run along with us, though. He and Harry get into a good amount of mischief even without me. Well, one of the darkblood groups… I think it may have been a pureblood supremacist sec? … had somehow lured a troll into the dungeons through one of the old entrances. It’s been sealed off again, by the way. We were supposed to go back to the dorms with everyone else while the professors handled it.”

“Non! ‘Ermione, you did not go after it!” Fleur sounded scandalized, and had pushed away to stare at her. Hermione blushed, trying not to look directly at her and appear at least partially innocent.

“Not exactly… no.” She laughed hesitantly. “Hagrid, the Care of Magical Creatures professor, hadn’t been in the meal hall when the news was delivered, and Ronald remembered that he had been in one of the other corridors, hunting some creature or other for the next day’s lesson. We decided to find him, thinking that he would probably know more about whatever needed to be done. The problem, you see, was that the old corridor was also one of the larger paths toward the dungeon level.” Fleur laughed loudly. “We did not find Hagrid, but we  _ did _ find both the Troll and Mrs. Norris, that cat that belongs to old Filch.”

“Oh, ‘e is a wretched man.” Fleur shook her head in distaste, still somehow smiling.

“He’s a very grumpy, lonely, sad old man, Fleur. Don’t be so mean to him.” Hermione chided, making Fleur scoff. “He isn’t exactly nice to me, but he doesn’t seem to hate me as much as the others at least. Anyhow, we couldn’t just leave her there, though really we didn’t have much of a choice. While I argued that it heard us.”

“Non!”

“Yes. Ronald’s wand was a bit tetchy at the time, it was a hand-me-down from one of his brothers, so he tried to get Mrs. Norris while Harry and I tried to cast spells. It was Ronald that remembered that Troll skin is resistant to Hexes. Harry tried the Tickling Charm instead, and I managed to use Wingardium on its club, to drop the thing on its head. I had nightmares about the sounds Trolls make when laughing for a month.”

Fleur laughed lightly again, shaking her head. “This is impossible. Non. Un Charm to  _ tickle _ un troll?”

“Yes! It worked.” Hermione settled into place with a fake huff, still smiling. “Its laughter was  _ horrifying _ . I barely had control over the club when I used  _ leviosa  _ on it, that’s why it dropped on the troll’s head. Knocked him out. We had detention for weeks. Sirius was so proud.”

“Sirius, ‘e is un strange professeur et uncle.” Fleur sighed, curling closer. Hermione turned bright red, feeling the blonde much closer than she had been before. The girl’s hand was in her hair again. “‘Ow is detention something to be proud of?”

“My uncle and Harry’s father knew each other in school. They apparently were known troublemakers. I think it’s nostalgic to him.” Hermione shrugged, closing her eyes and trying to enjoy the sensation. “It also makes him feel like I take after him.” She could feel curiosity from the other girl, but couldn’t quite bring herself to expand on that. She hadn’t even told Harry her suspicions about her blood family. After a stretched silence, her feeling almost as if she’d curl into Fleur’s lap from her hair being played with and pet, she grumbled lightly. “Hmn. We’ve not gotten any work done.”

“Non. ‘owever we ‘ave ‘ad fun, oui? It is good.” Fleur paused, gripping a little harder at the curls in her hand, then gently petting them down. “At ‘ome I did not always ‘ave such friends, to share with. They were friends, oui, but they were not close. They did not understand the love of learning that I ‘ad.” Silence stretched only for another moment. “This is diferent; I like it. ‘Ermione, you love the books et magic as I do. Oui, I sometimes think that you are too smart even. I am ‘appy that you let me know you.”

Hermione turned bright red again, but somehow managed to mumble that she liked becoming better friends with the blonde too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are welcome to yell at me on Twitter... especially about the horrible attempt at the accent and my GoogleTranslate hatchet job of the French language.  
> @ForgottenLocke


	12. On History

Hermione smiled happily to herself, practically skipping to breakfast. She may, honestly, be more than embarrassed with how close Fleur had wound up, and they may not have gotten actual studying or work done… but it had been nice. Ginny liked spending time with her and talking, but the redhead had either been around when she’d had her few adventures with Harry and Ron, or heard about it from her brothers. Other than Harry, and the Weasleys, she’d not had much in the way of close friends. The twins were mischievous partners in fun and adventure, but not nearly serious enough to get emotionally close with. Ronald had the emotional range of a teaspoon. Ginny was… not quite the same. The closest Hermione had ever come to a close, intimate friendship was Harry… and he was a bit of a dense brother, all things considered.

Fleur was… nice. She had been the one to gradually edge closer, hand playing with Hermione’s hair, and ask to get to know her better. They’d exchanged stories, and Fleur understood her love of books and learning. The fact that she was fairly certain that she was smitten with the blonde was merely a bonus to that time. Glancing around, Hermione noted Fleur sitting further down the table, with the prefects, as per usual. Smiling bashfully again, she slid into her seat.

“Oy, you’re in a good mood.” Ronald was speaking with his mouth full, again, and the half-masticated sausage was rather sickening to look at. Hermione winced away from the sight. “Embarrassed?”

“Disgusted with your table manners.” Hermione wrinkled her nose again, shaking her head, and the twins both cracked up. “And yes, Ron, I’m in a good mood. How is  _ your _ mood?”

“It was bloody perfect until you had to be rude.” He snapped, making the twins laugh harder. “Shut up!”

“Oh, bloody perfect?” Hermione rose both brows, eyeing him and grateful that he’d swallowed. “Did you suddenly decide what you want to do after Hogwarts and start studying?” As the boy turned red, she sighed and rolled her eyes, reaching for some eggs to serve herself. “Honestly, Ronald, you have to have  _ some _ kind of idea. Have you studied at all? You keep hiding from our Saturday workshops.”

“Well what’m I supposed to do?” He snapped, sulking. “Only things I’m good at are Wizards Chess and Creatures.”

“You’re not bad at Herbology.” Harry pointed out, trying to sound encouraging, but it only caused the redhead to pout more.

“Wish I could be like Charlie. He studies dragons in Romania.” Ron huffed, shoving another large forkful into his mouth.

“Brother Charlie made Outstandings on his Charms and Herbology OWLS, and just as well on his NEWTS.” Probably Fred offered, still sounding amused. “You haven’t even started studying.”

“What dragons would you want to study?” Harry asked, glaring at the twins to not discourage their brother further. Ron shrugged. “You said Charlie studies Ridgebacks, right?”

“Yeah…” Ron shrugged again, poking sheepishly at his food. After a moment he mumbled, “but he should work with Opaleyes instead. They need more protection.” The twins at least didn’t laugh at that, unsure of if the boy was right or not.

“We’re doing Charms and History this meet, Ronald. Just study for your OWLS with us. Maybe you’ll find something you want to work on.” Hermione implored, her mood still not completely ruined. “You could easily get into both Charms and Creatures NEWT courses, I’m sure of it.” The boy looked at her with wide, moony eyes, and blushed lightly. “You’re smart when you actually try Ron; you just have to try.”

While he was grumbling something that sounded suspiciously like an acceptance to meet them for the study group, Harry watching him with mixed suspicion and support, Hermione glanced down the table again. Across the hall, Viktor smirked at her and nodded to the other end of her table. Hermione leaned forward just slightly, and noticed the curious, stubborn look on Fleur’s face. She was watching too, and offered a bright smile in response to noticing Hermione looking back.

* * *

“This would be a great deal easier if Binns  _ ever _ covered something  _ other _ than Goblin wars.” Hermione growled to herself, shuffling uselessly through her notes. She knew that the OWL in that class would probably be some sort of essay on one of the Goblin Wars, simply because the ghost never talked about anything else… but there were more than twenty of the damnable things. How could they expect the students to keep them straight? Or care, really, after having heard about it endlessly through the years.

“That ghost Professeur?” Fleur asked, descending to the steps. Hermione looked up from the uncoordinated stack of papers on the lounger with her. She knew, at least, to keep her study and items away from Fleur’s project area, for fear of accidentally setting off part of the wards. “I ‘esitate to call ‘im Professeur. Do you know if ‘e was that incompetent in life also?”

Hermione couldn’t help the light laugh, before forcing herself to sober. “He’s not particularly incompetent… I think he just favored that era of history.”

“Non. In Beauxbatons, we ‘ad un  _ real _ Professeur of ‘istory. Muggle ‘istory et Magical ‘istory are forever intertwined. During the last Goblin uprising, it was the start of the first Muggle World War. Binns lectured on it in class at the start of the year, and ‘e did not even mention the Muggle War. Binns did not even say ‘ow the Goblin War ended. The Goblins were suppressed because they could not survive, ‘ad they not teamed with the Wizards et our allies, to shield from the war of muggles. The French ministry believes that this was the reason Grindelwald was so ‘ard to catch. Much of the best aurors et wizards of the ministries of Europe were busy maintaining the shields and spells to keep the Muggles from finding or ‘urting our world.”

Hermione stared in blank fascination at the blonde, shocked. She’d never even contemplated the impact from Muggle wars on the Wizarding community, though she had a vague idea that they’d happened. Doing a bit of math in her head, it made sense. The first World War, of the Muggles at least, was right around the time that Grindlewald had been vying for power, not that Binns had ever even covered  _ that _ in his lectures. Slowly, a blush overtook her features as she thought over just how intelligent Fleur had to be, rambling that off so easily. “I suppose your school has that up on Hogwarts then. Your notes from that class must be brilliant.”

“Oui. They are.” Fleur winked, making Hermione blush more and laugh. “Study your books, ‘ermione. I will use un translation charm, et give you un copy. This will do well, oui?”

“Yes, Fleur. Merlin, that would be brilliant.” Hermione’s eyes lit up, reaching for one of her books when it was apparent that whatever mess of notes she had, they would be nothing in comparison to Fleur’s promise of information. “I brought a few potions in case a ward or hex is activated. The boundary you’ve been working with seemed a bit upset when I walked in today. Practically pulsating.”

“Merci.”

* * *

“These are brilliant, Hermione. Where’d you get them?” Neville’s exclamation made Hermione smile sheepishly. The neatly arranged parchment that Fleur had presented her with that week was, honestly, something to admire. While she took copious notes, and could often arrange them neatly, Hermione had found that the most effective way for her to study was to spread them out and have the pages read themselves to her as she worked through theories. She had yet to charm any of the parchments with that particular spell, it was a bit of work to do after the writing had already been added, but nevertheless, they told quite the story just through reading. Fleur had arranged them by time-period and occurrence. While there seemed to be a good deal on Goblin Wars, so too were there other troves of information.

“A friend gave them to me. There’s bits of the Goblin Wars in there, especially the first one and the last, but it’s a bit more than just droning on.” Hermione shuffled a few bundles to the side, and handed one off to Ron, who looked on with trepidation. “There are some personal accounts of German Aurors during the two muggle world wars in that stack. They were part of the required reading for Beauxbatons History in fifth year there. One of them traveled protecting a flight of Horntails during the Blitzkrieg. I thought you’d find it interesting.”

He blinked at her, looking skeptical, before turning to look at the parchment now in his hands. “What’s a Blitzkrieg?” Hermione only smiled, encouraging him to read through the accounts she’d handed him. Within moments, their small study group had moved to leafing through the History notes she’d gotten from Fleur. Having read through most of them, she went back to studying the Potions notes instead, smiling softly as she enjoyed the quiet of her friends and peers enjoying the notes as she had.

“This is bloody… bloody… this is just…” Ron mumbled, quickly shuffling to another page. “Mione, those Muggles were completely nutter. They _bombed_ London?” His incredulous voice rang out, startling at least one other pureblood in the room. “They _bombed_ _London_! And we still won!” He laughed lightly. “And the Goblins just stopped fighting because of it?”

“No, the Blitzkrieg was in the second muggle World War. The last Goblin War ended around the start of muggle World War I, the end of which overlapped Grindelwald’s rise to power. He probably got a lot of sympathizers from witches and wizards scared of the muggle war that was threatening their lives.” Hermione corrected, pointing at the stack of notes currently with Neville. “That’s his stack. You’ve got personal accounts and reports from witnesses, instead of an overview. I thought you’d find them more interesting.”

“Hey, mate, lend over when you’re done.” Ron grumbled, shuffling to another page with wide eyes.

While most of the group eventually got bored reading through the notes on History, different though they were from the lectures Binns was prone to, Ronald stayed in the corner with one of the Ravenclaws, pouring over the parchment and writing. She occasionally glanced in his direction, happy he’d found something so fascinating there, while trying out different potions and discussions with the rest of the group.

Fleur actually met her as she left the group, eyeing the rest of her study mates suspiciously, but Ron didn't even bother to look up, still absorbed in the notes. Hermione was hopeful that he'd treat the parchment with care, as it would be extremely embarrassing to have to tell Fleur that they'd been ruined. “Bonjiour mon cher.” the mumbled greeting brought a light blush to Hermione’s cheeks, but Fleur seemed to still be glowering at one of the boys.

* * *

Fleur was debating internally as she pulled the brunette along with a gentle tug of the arm. Hermione hadn't actually objected to the insistence, even when Fleur hadn't admitted to where they were going. Chatting with the brunette had been wonderful, her mood lifted for the remainder of the day… she wanted to know more. Honestly, she wanted the girl to admit to being an Animagus, for Fleur was now certain of it after having stared her in the eyes more than once recently.

Did the girl's other friends know? Was that what they chatted so happily about further down the dining table? She'd taken brief notice of the redheaded boy with horrible eating manners - the boy that looked at Hermione with longing sometimes, which had perhaps made her instantly dislike him. Ronald… and the bespectacled boy named Harry. They chatted with and at Hermione and were answered so easily. There was no blushing and hesitation, no avoiding their eyes.

“It is time for the midday meal, no?” she finally asked, curling her arm firmly around Hermione’s as she led them toward the willow’s landing. She was not close to the girl, yet… not nearly so much as those mannerless boys… but she felt that she wanted to be. She wanted to curl near the other girl again and talk as they had, to maybe do the same in silence, studying. “I ‘ave a picnic ready. This is satisfactory?”

“Of… of course.” the brunette seemed surprised and embarrassed again. Did she not picnic with her friends? Was it simply that she had not anticipated Fleur setting it up for them? True that Hermione had been the one to bring snacks most frequently to their studying, but it had been pleasant. “The exit is the other way… aren't we eating outside?”

“Oui, this is true.” Fleur smirked. “Et the outside is still very brisk, no? I ‘ave something warmer in mind.” She smiled more broadly, seeing the entrance to the willow’s landing ahead. Her arm dropped to link hands with the other girl, guiding her through the darker passage. Perhaps this was also to test Hermione's reaction to being brought here.

Laid out was the collection of sheets from her bed in the Gryffindor dorms, with her pillows serving as cushions. They would be dirty when they had finished, but it was no trouble to spell them clean again, and banish them back to her room. Folded neatly was the warming blanket that she had been given, next to a basket of lunch foods that the elves had prepared for her. They had seemed very eager to help “Miss Hermione” after all, and provided the girl's favorite foods.

“Did the elves help you set this up?” Hermione was smiling a little nervously, but she looked pleased.

“They did give me the food, oui, but I am quite capable of carrying things out ‘ere.” Fleur considered letting go of Hermione's hand in favor of settling their pillows most conveniently, but quickly decided against it. A flick of her wand and things floated exactly where she'd intended, pulling the brunette to sit with her and see the available food. “Do you ‘ave ‘ouse elves in the Black ‘ome?”

“Yes, one.” Hermione's smile turned a little sad, but Fleur was happy to feel the other girl settle more closely to her. “He is rather old, and has been with the house since my uncle was young. They don't really get along.”

Fleur considered what she knew of the mischievous professor, and how he had never seemed to begrudge her bloodline. She had even seen the man interact so casually and happily with the little Charms professor and the Magical Creatures professor. “That is strange. Do you get along with it?”

“Very much so. Kreacher is very sweet.” Hermione was poking through the food, obviously pleasantly surprised at the selection. “Uncle Sirius used to attempt to free Kreacher, when he was in Hogwarts, and I think that the elf thought it was the boy's attempt to dismiss him. They were separated for over a decade once my uncle separated from the main house.”

“Merde, the tale of your famile is complex, ‘ermione.” Fleur served herself some of the food, a little surprised at the number of boiled eggs that had been provided. Maybe the elves had been a little  _ too  _ eager.

“You've no idea.” Hermione grumbled, peering too seriously at the bread roll she'd taken.

Fleur reached out to gently play with the curling hair, noting it seemed tamer than the previous day. “Non… but I would listen, if you wished to tell me.”


End file.
